


Sunlit Lunches and Moonlit Touches

by GoldenDearie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle is sending the pics it's not a love triangle, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Lots of wanking, Love Letters, Masturbation, Modern World AU, No Curse, Nude Photos, Past Domestic Violence, Romance, Sexting But With Letters, Sexual Tension, Sexy Letters, wanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDearie/pseuds/GoldenDearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While he lived in comfort and wealth and found slight enjoyment in terrorizing the town, life for Michael Gold was devoid of any real pleasure. Each day, the only highlight was when Belle French sat down with him during his lunch break. Too cowardly to ever ask for more, their lunches were all he had. That is, until he receives a rather sexual photograph in the mail from an anonymous woman. The photograph is the start of many more secretive and sensual pieces of mail. As Gold receives more and more attention from the mystery woman, Belle also begins to offer more attention, leaving Gold both lustful and guilty, torn between the safety of anonymity and happiness of Belle's companionship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Mysterious Envelope

**Author's Note:**

> This idea of this fic came to me just yesterday, while I was making a gifset for the anniversary of Skin Deep, set to Forever by KISS. Their song 'Let's Put the X in Sex' came on, and I just knew I had to Rumbelle it. I hope you enjoy this first chapter, leave a kudos, or a comment, or both if you enjoy it and want more! The second chapter is about half done, so I can get it posted soon!

There were many things that came with the territory of being the most feared and hated man in town. People didn't dare cut him off, if he sat or parked somewhere once it was his for good, and no one dared to bother him with foolish whims. It was a lonely life, but Michael Gold wouldn't have had it any other way. He was perfectly lonely. 

Each day was more or less the same for him. First, he read the paper in the morning while having toast and eggs. After that he would get in his Cadillac and he would go to his pawn shop. He opened the shop at exactly 9:00 Monday through Saturday, and he closed it at exactly 6:00 in the evening. Before lunch, he would spend the time making calls regarding loans or rent. He would stop at Granny's around noon and he would sit at the counter at the very end. Halfway through his lunch, Miss Belle French would always take the only seat next to him, regardless of how many seats were free.

Belle French was the only person in town who spoke to him for casual purposes. She would do most of the talking and he would listen, but always with rapt attention. He would make what were, in his opinion, terribly poor attempts at humor, and she would giggle and touch his arm. He was not so foolish as to interpret it as flirting, no, Miss French was simply friendly. She likely pitied him. She was barely twenty-two, he was at least twenty years older than her. There was absolutely no chance of her having feelings for him. Regardless, her company was enjoyable, and entirely worth ignoring any desires for more than just lunchtime companionship,

Every evening, Michael arrived home fifteen minutes after closing. He had no social life beyond chatter with Miss French, so he always kept to his routine. As he did everyday, he parked his car neatly and stepped out, using his cane as an aid to exiting the low vehicle. He closed the door and limped slowly, opening his mailbox. He took the small pile in his hand, and he made his way into his house. He hung his coat, walking through the empty and cold house in the dark. He flicked the kitchen light switch on, leaning his cane up against the counter and tossing the pile of mail down. It was Tuesday, which meant it was Chinese food night, and the delivery boy would arrive in about half an hour. 

He poured himself three fingers of scotch, and sat down at the counter. He pulled the envelopes over, sighing heavily. He set his cell phone bill to the side, threw away the standard automatically sent coupon book, and then he opened one containing a portion of someone's debt to him. Normally that would be the end of it, but today, there was one more letter. It was handwritten in pretty, feminine penmanship, and he tilted his head curiously. There wasn't postage, and there was no shipping information, no return address. All it said was 'Mr. Gold' and alongside it, there was a small heart. 

Someone, likely a woman, had touched his mailbox and in turn, his mail, in order to slip a personal letter in the stack. Someone had broken the law simply to give him a letter. It was absolutely absurd. They could have stuck it in the door of his shop if they were too cheap to pay the price of a stamp.

He sighed, slowly opening it. He tilted his head in confusion as he pulled a face down photograph out. He flipped it over, gasping loudly at the sight before him, dropping it back onto the counter. There was no face shown, all he could see was from the neck down. But the woman in the photograph was, for the most part, nude. She wore red high heels, lacy black panties with red trim, and a matching bra. Her breasts were nearly spilling out, and he imagined that had she breathed the wrong way, he would have seen every inch of them. He yearned to see her face. The fact that he knew her body but not her face was pure torture. She was leaned up against an extensive bookshelf, and the added element of intelligence only aided in his arousal.

Mr. Gold was not a pervert, at least he didn't consider himself one. He didn't leer at women in the street, he didn't watch or read pornography, and he certainly didn't request nude photographs from women. The most salacious thing he did was take a quick peek at Miss French's rear and legs when she stood from her barstool or walked past his shop. But the woman in the photograph was just short of a goddess, and he wasn't blind. He was only a man, and a man who hadn't had intercourse or even kissed in over five years. He couldn't take his eyes off the woman and her porcelain skin, one hand splayed across her stomach, fingertips dipping into her panties and the other disappearing out of the shot near her face. He pretended it was because it had slipped between lips with enticing lipstick on for her to lightly suck and swirl her tongue around as she would around his...

Fuck.

He felt his pants grow significantly tighter, and he inwardly cursed his weak and easily influenced (lonely, old, lecherous) male body. He bit his lip and glanced around as if someone might be there, and he slowly reached down to palm himself through his pants. He was a horny old bastard, but really, how out of line was this? It wasn't as if it was sent via text message or email and could have potentially been accidental or the result of a malicious boyfriend. Whenever this stunning woman was, she had  
him to see this, and likely wanted this reaction. 

A shaking hand unzipped his pants, and he slowly eased himself out. He felt wrong sitting in his kitchen with his cock in his hand, but he could scarcely stop himself. Usually when he masturbated, it was in a steamy shower or under his silk sheets at night. But this woman had done a very naughty and bold thing, and it only felt right to do something a bit risqué in response. He sighed out as he began to stroke his sizable member, looking down at the picture. It was hard to get past not knowing the woman or her face, but he was far too aroused to care. He pressed his thumb into his swollen tip, spreading the small bead of moisture around the sensitive skin. 

Mr. Gold moaned out as he stroked himself in an even pace, imagining it was the hand of the woman in the photo, moist from being inside herself. He began to pump himself faster, his grip firm and tight as he imagined her pussy would be, though his cool hand lacked the wet warmth her body would provide. He could tell she was mature yet young, likely in her twenties. Or at least he prayed, he would not be able to live with the shame and disgust if he found out he was stroking himself to a minor. He groaned lowly, murmuring an expletive. He set the photo down so his other hand could ease his balls from their place within his pants, and he gently caressed them. His hands were too large and too masculine to be just what he needed, but they were all he had.

Within five minutes of brisk pumping he was on the edge of orgasm. He fumbled in his pocket in order to pull his handkerchief out to catch his cum. His wrist twisted slightly and he moaned, his eyes on her still. Her breasts were supple and perky, but he very much wished she had sent her ass as well. He was an ass man first and foremost. But it wasn't a very pressing issue, and he was just about to cum. “Oh fuck..." He murmured it under his breath, the cloth positioned right at his tip.

And then his doorbell rang. He sat straight up, turning with his cock still in his hand. He glanced at his watch and sighed. It was his dinner, on time as usual. This stranger was throwing off his routine. He slowly stood up, tucking himself back inside, wincing from the strain. He grabbed his cane and began to walk, his gait even more uneven than usual. He took a bill out of his wallet once at the door. He did not need a teenager running around and telling the whole damn town he saw Mr. Gold answer the door with a raging hard-on. He pulled open the door once he got there, reaching a hand out for the bag. He tossed the boy his usual twenty dollar tip, thankful that was the only interaction needed. Since he owned the building the restaurant occupied, he didn't have to pay for his meals. He shut the door in his face with a curt nod, locking his door and limping back to the kitchen as quickly as he could. He set the bag on the counter, pulled his photo forward, and began to stroke himself more urgently. His erection was nearly painful from his orgasm being denied, so he wasted no time, tugging roughly. He gasped out as he came, using his handkerchief to catch the sticky fluid. He panted softly, sinking into the barstool as his leg grew weaker than it already was. He wiped himself carefully and tossed the soiled silk onto the counter, his mouth hanging open, his teeth barred a bit. 

After a few minutes of recuperation he set about his normal evening. He, after washing his hands, finished his scotch, ate his dinner, and inspected the general area to make sure the cleaning woman didn't steal anything. Then he looked back at the photograph. What was he supposed to do with it? Holding onto it felt wrong, but throwing it away felt even worse. It would be a lack of respect. For some reason, this woman wanted him to see this. And, he was nervous about somebody else finding it (he was 100% certain somebody rummaged through his garbage on occasion, probably the rat of a mechanic) and while he could shred it, he couldn't bring himself to. 

He walked into his office and pulled out a locked box with several rolls of money in it. He switched the funds into his wall safe behind his hinged painting. If he was to be honest with himself, for some strange reason, the photograph was worth more than a few thousand dollars that he would make in rent for just his business buildings. He could find even more revealing images if he performed a simple Google search, or he could go on a pornography site. But that felt wrong. He wasn't sure why, but he felt as if he knew this woman. She seemed important, the feeling he got when he looked at her felt familiar. 

He flipped the paper, hoping to find some clue as to who the mysterious woman was. On the back, all it read was '1993.' He thought a moment, and realized with relief it was likely the woman's birth year. So while he was indeed a pervert, at least he wasn't a pedophile. He tucked the photograph away inside the envelope it came in, making sure it was face down. He set the envelope in the box, and then he locked the box. He picked it up and carried it up to his bedroom, placing it beneath his bed. He laughed aloud at himself. He was hiding explicit photographs under his bed like a fourteen year old boy with his first playboy. It was embarrassing, and he was grateful that no one would ever know. 

He changed into his silk pajamas, brushing his teeth and using the restroom before climbing beneath his sheets. He felt more sexually sated than he had in years. It almost was enough to help him forget about how empty and cold his bed was without a warm body curled around his. He wasn't even sure where the yearning came from. It wasn’t as if any of the women from the unimpressive number he had been with had ever been wanted to cuddle anything other than his wallet. He sighed, the sadness sinking back in. 

Sometime, in the darkness and privacy of his own room, he thought of Belle French. Not in a sexual or derogatory way. But just what it would be like to have the courage to ask her on a proper date, or the courage to press his lips to her own. To have something more than the simple lunches they shared each day. He rolled his eyes at himself, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. Sleep came quickly, and he sank into dreams he unfortunately would forget, though they were filled with blue eyes and black lace.


	2. Shameful Solitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I'm quite pleased with how well the response to the first chapter was, so here's chapter 2! I'm working on the next one, so hopefully it'll be done soon! You can send me prompts here or on tumblr and I will try to work them in. Please give it a kudos if you like it, it really helps me out and motivates me and also helps other people find it! Comments are always appreciated too!

Mr. Gold sat down at his usual barstool, eating a roast beef sandwich, extra pickles on the side. Wednesday was always roast beef day. He smiled against his glass of water as he heard the familiar clack of high heels on cheap linoleum. He fought the urge to turn around until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and when it came, nails gently pressing into him, he turned.

“Good afternoon, Miss French.” She smiled warmly, sitting down beside him, and for some odd reason, she sat on so she was on the far right of the stool. Her shoulder brushed his own, and he found he couldn't resist leaning slightly.

“Hello Mr. Gold. How are you today?” 

“Quite well, thank you dear.”

The scantily clad waitress came over before he could reply. If the men who leered at her had seen what he saw the night before, they would forget the Lucas girl and hunt down the glorious goddess. But then again, maybe they had. Perhaps this woman just sent photographs to every man. The thought saddened him to the point of distraction, so he was unable to hear what Miss French had ordered. He finally snapped out of it in time to realize she was speaking to him, and he tuned in.

“... what I really need, is a tripod, I feel it would make things much easier.” Her beautiful voice tinkled like a bell (as if she hadn't heard that from every man she ever dated) and her eyes glistened like stars. She seemed excited, and he felt like a bastard for missing out on what had made her smile.

“I'm sorry, you need a tripod for what?”

“Did I mumble? I'm so sorry, I'm trying to break that habit.” Amusingly enough, she mumbled it. “I love to take photos. Photography is one of my passions, along with books off course, and I need a nice tripod for my camera.”

“What kinds of photos do you like to take? You've mentioned photography before, but never just what you enjoy capturing.” He turned to face her more, trying to make up for his previous discourtesy with more eye contact than he could ever manage with her. They were unnaturally blue.

“I love to take landscapes. Along with personal things that mean a lot to me. Sometimes portraits, and the occasional self-portrait. What I really want to do is travel, take images of landmarks all over the world.” He smiled, watching her talk, listening to how expressive that accent was when she was alight with passion. He mentally stapled his hand to his forehead as his thoughts flickered to other sorts of passion. He deserved a bucket of cold water on his head, and had Miss French knew what crossed his mind, she would have called the waitress back to order two.

“That sounds lovely.” He smiled at her. With the exclusion of children, she was the only person in town who got a smile instead of a sneer or smirk. 

“I could show you some time. If you'd be interested, of course, I wouldn't want to waste your time. You're so busy.”

“Not too busy to see something important to you.” He leaned in a bit as he said it, and she nudged him playfully, giggling.

“I'll stop by your shop soon with it. I just have to add a few new photos to my best album, and I'll show you. I've been wanting to look around your shop, anyways. This is a good excuse.” Miss Lucas set her hamburger down then, grinning at her as her eyes darted between them. Suspicious behavior. “Oh, silly me, I forgot pickles.” She sighed, shaking her head at herself in exasperation. She craned her neck to see her apparent friend, but the tall girl was engrossed in conversation (blatant flirting) with Doctor Whale. She sank down as she realized the girl was likely to be occupied for some time. Doctor Whale made him look like a saint, even after what he had done the night before.

He glanced down at his own plate with pickles on the side, and then at her face as she ate her burger. Pickles were one of his favorite foods, and a necessity to any sandwich, even when they didn't fit well. They made everything better in his opinion.  
“If you'd like, you can have some of mine.” 

“Really? Mr. Gold, that's so kind of you. Thank you!” He slid his plate closer to her, allowing her to easily snag a few off his plate to arrange on her burger. He nodded politely, and for the rest of their lunch, she chattered on and on while he gave input when appropriate. He enjoyed her company so much, he had hung onto every word while he listened to her. She stood from her seat, and he swallowed, feeling bold. They never left at the same time.

“Ah... May I escort you back to the library?” She smiled wide and nodded before looping her arm through his, and his eyes momentarily resembled large dinner plates from the shock. He regained control over his body and began to walk her out. He glanced down at her saucy red heels, surprised to find she was still a good inch or two shorter than him. He wanted to see her without heels, she was quite the tiny one. Between her towering high heels and his useless leg and cane they walked slow, more of a stroll than anything. “You have very lovely taste in shoes, Miss French.”

“You think so?” She beamed. “I don't think any guy has ever complimented me on my shoes before...”

“I apologize if you found it strange.” Fuck. He was an idiot. Why would she care if he liked her footwear?

“Strange? No! Thank you very much! I got these when I went to New York. They were a bit of a splurge, but I wanted to treat myself.”

“As you should, every now and again.”

“I really appreciate that you noticed. Most guys only notice what they're attached to. Or they don't even notice that and just go right for the 'you have pretty eyes' line.” They stopped in front of the library, and she still didn't release him, though she shifted so her hand was on his bicep.

“Well, it isn't a lie, you do have very stunning eyes.”

“Oh, stunning! No one has ever used that one. Thank you, Mr. Gold.” She giggled softly, looking up at him. His eyes flickered to her lips briefly. She always wore lipstick that was quickly becoming his favorite shade. His breath caught in his throat as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her hand rested on his shoulder and she lingered a moment before she pulled back and squeezed warmly. A few people were looking on in shock, and he was fairly certain he heard David Nolan murmur 'holy crap' from behind Belle. Not that he cared in this glorious moment, they could take pictures and post them on every social media site that confused him for all he cared. “Have a good day, Mr. Gold. I'll see you tomorrow!” 

“Good... Ah, as in, good day to you too.” He swallows hard and she gave him what seemed to be a knowing look, turning on her heel and going inside the library. He turned, his cane tapping as he walked to his shop, entering. As he walked past a mirror, he gasped softly. There was a lipstick print on his cheek, where Belle had pressed her sweet lips. He leaned in closer, pressing his fingertips over his cheek, his mouth hanging open. Rather than scrub it off he approached the sign and turned it to closed. He would just repair things and verify authenticity today rather than remove the trace of Belle French on his body. 

He really had turned into a pathetic man. Wanking in a kitchen over a stranger and then keeping a lipstick stain on his face. He wasn't sure which was more pathetic, but he was leaning towards the former. At least he knew Miss French personally. He returned to his mirror, looking at the mark again. It was a work of art.

He sat down at his desk, adjusting his magnifying glass so he could adequately see the work that needed to be done. He worked precisely, leaning forward, his movements careful. His mind began to wander to Miss French. What would she do if he asked her on a proper date?

She would say no, naturally, he sarcastically thought, sighing as he leaned forward on his elbow, chin on his hand. It was pointless to like her. She thought of him as a friend, and nothing more. Friends kissed each other on the cheek. Her gesture was meant as nothing but kindness. He licked his palm and began to attempt rubbing the lipstick off, his motion vigorous. He pulled his phone out and broke up the front camera to check his progress, licking his hand again to add in the removal of the sign of what he would never have. He finally removed it, leaving himself with a pink cheek. He sighed in defeat, glancing down at his phone. He had Miss French's number in it. It was one of the few he had. He could take the cowardly way out and send her a text message to ask her out.

She'd say no.

His chest felt tight, so he tried to breathe in deeply, gripping the arm of his chair. He realized then that he smelled. Not bad, not even close to bad. He smelled like Miss French. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. Roses certainly, but he could never distinguish between the others. Whatever perfume it was, it was heavenly. He groaned in annoyance as he looked down and realized he was quite hard. He hadn't been so aroused so often since he was a teenager.

He swallowed hard. This had to be crossing a line. He respected Miss French, he liked her a lot as well. If he did this, he'd be insulting her in a way. But he couldn't help but imagine her standing the way the woman in the photo did. She'd look even better than the faceless stranger solely because it would be accompanied by plump lips and bright eyes. And they'd hood as she looked up at him. He would make it wonderful for her, use his tongue between her thighs to bring her body to orgasm several times before even taking his clothes off. He'd distract her from his age and lackluster body by bringing her to new heights. 

At some point along the line his hand had began palming his cock through his pants. She'd never know. He could be a gentleman in person, his eyes would mostly remain on her face. What was the harm in one bit of indulgence? He slowly unzipped his pants, pulling his hardened member out and beginning to stroke himself. He wished he knew what Miss French's body looked like nude. But instead he knew what a stranger's body looked like better than he'd ever know what Miss French’s looked like. The closest he'd ever get is if he managed courage to invite her to the beach, or just so happened to see her there. Not that he ever went to the beach.

His tugs were rough now, fueled by his repressed urges for the librarian as well as his anger at himself. His mouth hung open, his eyes closed tightly as his hand moved quickly. Her lips had burned his skin, and the thought of them someplace other than his cheek burned his mind, flames of lust being fed. Miss French was everything he wanted in a woman. Someone he could have lunch with, talk about literature and antiques, go on walks with, talk to when he had a bad day. And, should she ever display interest, he would stalk into that library of her's and take her against a bookcase in the back, bad leg be damned.

She was young and beautiful yes, but she was also sexy, intelligent, passionate, funny, and she meshed well with him. She was sweet and bubbly, and she made him just a little less grumpy. He only had begun tipping the waitress well when she first sat down with him. Miss French was the whole package, everything a man could want. The woman in the photograph was all he could ever have, just a body. The woman likely wanted money from him, which would explain the reasons for the photographs.

An angry and aroused groan escaped him, and he held his cock more firmly. He was close. He was pathetic, sitting in the back of his shop, pleasuring himself to the image of the woman who relied on him for lunch company and allowed him to walk her to work. He was sick, but really, when had anyone ever called him a saint? He barely had time to grab his (brand new) handkerchief before he was cumming hard.

“Belle...” 

Once he spilled his seed into the cloth and gained his mind back, he froze. He had masturbated in his shop over the mere thought of his only companion solely because he had smelled her perfume on him. Miss French had in no way offered him any sort of consent or permission, and he felt very disrespectful. How would he look her in the eye at lunch after doing this? He had achieved the next level of pervert.

As if by some twist of fate, his phone rang. He glanced down at it, seeing it was in fact the woman he had treated like a piece of meat against her will. He answered slowly, his mouth dry. “Gold.” He winced. His accent always got thick after an orgasm, he sounded aroused still.

“Hi Mr. Gold! It's Belle!” He couldn't help but smile. As if anyone else would call him.

“Hello, Miss French. Can I do anything for you?” He winced again. Somehow he didn't think what he wanted to hear from her would escape her mouth. 'Fuck me roughly on your desk then spread me out on your bed and take me softly.' As if she'd say that to him.

“You can.” That accent sent chills down his spine every time. “I'm trying to remember, I think I might have left my jacket at Granny's. Did you happen to see?” No. She was wearing it. He had noticed when he took in the swell of her ass.

“I do think you had it on, Miss French, I-”

“Belle. I've told you to call me Belle.” He could hear she was amused, and his embarrassment only grew.

“Yes, I apologize, Belle. I do believe you wore it. It's a grey blazer, right?”

“Yes! You noticed.”

“Well, I noticed it looked quite lovely on you.” He winced again. She'd think he was paying attention to fashion instead of her, between his comment on her heels and this.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold. I'm sorry to bother you. I'll find it somewhere. Have a nice day.” He could hear her smile.

“You too, Belle. I'll talk to you later.” He hung up once she said another goodbye, swallowing hard as he looked down at his now softened cock, pale against the black of his suit. He had spoken to the woman he had come to have feelings for with his cock out. He was mortified. What would she think if she knew? She'd probably smack him.

He had never felt so ashamed, not in a long time anyways. He slowly stood up, fixing his pants and grabbing his cane. He exited his shop and walked straight to Granny's, ordering a black coffee. He noticed the waitress smirked at him, and he shifted nervously. It was like she knew what he had done over her closest friend in the confines of his shop. They could form a line of smacking him across the face.

The coffee was a facade. He slowly turned and saw what he had really came for. A grey blazer was indeed on the stool. He was almost certain she hadn't taken it off. He would have known because her breasts would have been more noticeable. He cringed. When had he become so creepy? But perhaps it had escaped his notice. He slowly walked over and picked it up, going back to where his coffee waited. He laid money down, watching the waitress's eyes flicker to the jacket then back to his face. He hung the blazer over his arm, grabbed his coffee, and left as quickly as he could. He went to the shop and got into his car, going right home.

He got his mail, searching through it by light of his phone screen the second he got it. Another letter without postage addressed to Mr. Gold. He trembled slightly, holding the coat and his mail as he went inside the house. It was a Wednesday, he cooked that night thankfully. He wasn't hungry. He carefully spread Belle's jacket across the back of a chair, and then he slowly opened the envelope.

He whined pathetically.

Her breasts where revealed, perky and likely a handful or so. One hand cupped, the other hand was inside her panties, blue this time. Her heels were black. He took some liberties with her appearance, adding long brown hair mentally. His cock was stirring again, which at his age was ridiculous, he should have been out of commission. He flipped it over reluctantly. 

_'Mr. Gold,  
If you want me to stop, leave the flag up tomorrow.'_

He shook his head rigorously before remembering she couldn't see him. He grabbed Belle's jacket and the photo and envelope before making his way upstairs. He hung her jacket neatly beside the one he selected for himself tomorrow. He felt a pang of sadness at the sight of their clothes together. 

It looked perfect. 

He swallowed hard and changed, his erect member getting in the way. Once he finished, he stroked the need away, holding the picture in his free hand. Guilt filled him as he mentally pasted Belle's face on the body, making it much hotter. Just another woman to get in the line of those who would smack him. His stroking was all mechanic and impersonal, and he kept mostly quiet except for a few grunts. If he was going to be a pervert, Belle would get the groaning, brows knit, hips lifting passion, the photos would get the basic lust. He came after a few minutes, this time into a tissue. He tossed it in the trash and neatly placed the photo in it's envelope, unlocking the box before placing it with the other. He hid it once more. 

He laid back in bed, his hands folded neatly over his abdomen, his body rigid. He had no idea what he was going to do. He had serious feelings, both sexual and romantic, for Belle French. It would be an insult to her to carry this on. But she would never reciprocate those feelings, so really, would she even care about what he did in the evenings? She would never have to know that he imagined her face as he looked a nude woman over. He would always treat her with respect in person, she would never know what he did in the dark. His mind was made up. He would continue to accept the mail despite the crushing shame and guilt that came with them. He had nothing else. He could get friendship from Miss French in the day, and he could get satisfaction from blending her and this mystery woman in the evening. No one would get hurt, and this was much safer for his fragile heart. It was pathetic and a bit desperate, but he was not a desirable companion for a young woman like Belle, not beyond a bar counter. 

This lonely arrangement would have to be enough. With a heavy heart and an empty bed, he fell asleep. 


	3. When Angels Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This took awhile to finish because I've been working a ton lately and just haven't had the inspiration. It's a longer chapter though! It's longer than both of the first chapters put together. I was going to split it, but I liked it better as one. As always, leave a kudos if you like it, it really helps me out. Comments or questions are always adored as well, I love to reply to them! Enjoy!
> 
> Small warning: Mentions of past abuse in this chapter, which will be a theme from here on. As always, I will let you know if ahead of the time if anything extreme happens in the chapter!

He had essentially stolen Belle's jacket. He could have dropped it off or called her, or even hung it on the coat rack for her to find. But instead, he took it home with him. And the creepy thing was he was reluctant to give it back. It wasn't as if he had slept with it or sniffed if, he simply enjoyed the look of it hanging with his own things. But he had to give it back as he was already wronging her in many ways. But before he left to go to the shop and then the library, he sat down at his desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen, taking a deep breath before beginning to write.

_Hello,_

_How are you? You said to leave the flag up, and I have no intentions of doing so. I just wish to ask you one question; why? Why, out of all the men in this town, have you selected me as the recipient of these photographs? This isn't a request for you to stop, it's simply a question that's gnawing at me. And is there anything I can call you?_

_Look forward to seeing you soon._

_Sincerely, Mr. Gold_

_P.S. You look very sexy in your pictures._

He read the letter over again and again. He sounded like an idiot, and he was beginning to wonder if he should just put the flag up and end this. He'd never been one for imagery before, he could go back to quick masturbation with closed eyes. But really, what was he getting out of this that he couldn't get online? He knew the answer.

The woman had chosen him. She was giving him permission. And, deep in the back of his mind, part of him liked to pretend Belle French was the one sending them. That was also the part of him that imagined her having feelings for him that mirrored his own for her. All thoughts that were born in the foolish and naive part left from being a young man. He let out a heavy sigh.

He tucked the letter into an envelope and made his way out to the mailbox. He hoped the mailman didn't take it, but it lacked postage. He was considering setting up a PO box to have his actual mail sent to for the sake of uninterrupted communication with the woman. Perhaps in his next letter he would leave a sheet of postage stamps so she could mail things to him properly. But that would be risky, should anyone ever intercept it, and he never wanted to risk her privacy. After placing the letter in the box he go into his car, setting Belle's jacket on the passenger seat. It would likely take several hours to work up the courage to bring it to her, so perhaps he would simply wait until lunch. But he also wanted to increase the amount of time he saw her, if only for a day.

God, he was getting disgustingly pathetic.

He drove to his shop, opening it ten minutes later than usual. He hadn’t been late in five years, and it felt strange. He set about to balancing the inventory lists, ensuring all his records matched the items in the shop. It was tedious work but he always enjoyed it. Around 11:30 he decided he would go to the library. He had the excuse of requiring a library card. He would make up some bullshit excuse for wanting a book on antiquities and desiring a library card to check it out. Then, should things go poorly he could excuse himself for lunch, which he took earlier than her. It was foolproof.

He hung the jacket over his arm and made his way out the door. He made sure to lock it before he limped his way down the street. No one ever gawked at him for his disability any more, and no one ever got in his way. Most avoided his eyes, though Dr. Hopper would nod and greet him politely, and the sheriff always said hello as well. That was the extent of social contact outside of Belle, excluding the times he had tea with Jefferson Madden. The man was absolutely insane however, so it was never really social, they weren't exactly friends. They had worked together, long ago, and his daughter was his godchild.

He slowly entered the library, looking around nervously. Belle wasn't the actual librarian. The librarian was an old woman named Mrs. Haggerty, and she opened it at 7:00AM, and then Belle came in at 10:30AM. The woman left by afternoon, leaving Belle in charge until evening when she returned to work 5:00PM to close. Essentially, Belle worked more but was paid less, and he was just waiting to for the old bat to die so Belle could get the library completely. He would make sure she did. He could at least give her that.

His heart sank as he saw just Mrs. Haggerty at the desk. He slipped past her before she could notice him, beginning to walk along the shelves, his eyes searching for a whisper of brown hair, his ears for the clack of lethal heels. He rounded the corner, and his breath caught on his throat. There she was. She was high up on a later, and if he had been inclined to be disgusting, he could have seen up her skirt. He kept his eyes on her face after briefly sweeping over her legs, slowly approaching her. She hadn't noticed him, but he could stretch his arm completely and touch her. There was a lump in his throat as he tried to speak, but then he heard the crunch of wood breaking.

And then she fell.

 He was certain he had never moved faster, even when his leg was normal. He threw his cane aside and rushed over, catching her in his arms. Despite his leg and lack of rippling muscles (like she would prefer, he imagined) he was fairly strong above the waist. He caught her with ease, using all his strength to hold her up. And he did, for about two seconds. Then the adrenaline faded and his leg buckled beneath their weight, sending them both to the hard floor. Luckily he landed on the ground rather than her. However that brought on a new issue. She had landed sprawled across his body. Her legs were on either side of his hips, and her face was buried into his chest, hands gripping his suit.

He was surrounded by her scent, her hair tickling his chin and cheeks, his arms wrapped around her, one on the back of her head. She shifted forward slightly, pressing her core against his groin. He was so pathetic. He felt his pants beginning to grow tighter, and he prayed Belle didn't notice. The one thing his body had going for it was the size of his manhood, but there was no way to pull his hips back to try and conceal it.

“Mr. Gold.” Her voice was breathless, and she lifted her head a bit, her hips pressing more as she used her hands to support herself on his chest. “You caught me...Oh no, your leg! Are you okay?” She looked at him in horror, trying to pull him up, but he kept her in place.

“I'm fine, Belle, I just need to lay here a moment.” And possibly go to the bathroom for a quick wank, or at least a strategic reposition. It was sad, this was the most action he had gotten in at least five years. It's not as if he couldn't have had a meaningless physical relationship. There were dozens of young women in this town who would jump at the chance to have a millionaire ‘sugar daddy.’  It would be an easy enough relationship to maintain. Buy the occasional gift and fund her wardrobe, get as much sex as he wanted. Many single men with his bank account would have jumped at the chance, it would be barely a dent in his fortune and it's not as if it would be prostitution. He would be just as lonely as he was now, but at least he would have flesh to sink his own into rather than squirming and going stiff from photographs and a woman's weight on him.

But he didn't want that for many reasons. He wanted someone to love more than someone to fuck. He wanted someone to share his life with. Deep down, he wanted another chance at having a family, despite what happened during the first chance years ago. And as he looked up at the Angel who had fallen (from a ladder) into his arms, he knew he was straddling the line of loving her. Now matter how strongly he felt for her romantically, he was still only man.  He was reminded of what she was currently straddling.

 “You probably just saved my life. Or at least some of my bones. Thank you so much!” She smiled brightly but showed no sign of intending to move.

 “Are you hurt at all?”

 “I might have a few bruises from the impact, but nothing bad. I bruise easily, anyways. What about you?”

 “Other than the aching burn in my leg I'm all set.” He hadn't meant to snap it with such sarcasm but he had and he winced. But she didn't even bat an eye. She leaned in and kissed his cheek again. She lingered inches away from his face, and then her lips were on his. He was going to die. His heart was going to burst from his chest and go off like a firework, rendering his body lifeless. Belle French was kissing him and she had chosen to do so. What a glorious moment. And it was no peck, she continued to kiss him and he began to kiss back. He was a bit surprised to find she was slightly clumsy and inexperienced in her kiss, almost as if she hadn't done much of it. It was probably just him, he recalled her having a boyfriend a year or so ago. He had never known what he looked like, but he'd simply heard from around town. Despite her lack of skill it was the best kiss he had ever had, and when she showed no resistance, he took control of it. She moaned softly, and he felt bold, so he placed his hands on her hips and pressed her down just slightly. Just enough to feel it, and he kept his groan in.

 “You're such a good kisser, Mr. Gold.” She whispered it before kissing him again, and this time he did groan, his hand in her hair.

 “Michael. It's Michael.” His voice was just a murmur against her lips before he claimed them again. His tongue slowly pushed past her soft lips and she moaned in delight. Once again, he noted she didn't seem to know what to do with her tongue. He had no qualms about guiding her, in fact, he knew deep down he wanted that with her consent. To claim and dominate her, to please and cherish her. To guide and support, and above all, to protect her and love her. All he had consent for was a kiss, and that was all he would take without very clear permission and certainty. He pushed those thoughts away, they were greedy. For now, he had her warm body on top of his and her soft lips glued to his own. This was already more than he deserved.

 He wasn't sure how long they laid there tonguing like two teenagers, but it was gradually becoming too much. The kiss had went from sweet and sensual to passionate and almost sloppy. It was becoming a prelude to sex he knew wouldn't happen, which was fine, he was in no way expecting it. But his cock was aching in his pants, his back was from the floor, and he wasn't sure how long he could go on without trying for more. He risked offending her. Part of him wanted to ask one simple question and then take her then and there. The other part of him wanted to take her to dinner and apologize for his lecherous behavior. She slowly pulled back, and her lips were red and slightly swollen, her hair loose from its bun. He must have pulled it free, he loved her hair regardless, but it looked best down. Her skin was pink, her eyes hooded, and he fought the urge to roll her onto her back. He'd never seen a more fuckable sight. And, then she smiled, and he had never seen a more lovable sight.

 “You're a very good kisser, Mr. Go- Michael.” She stroked his cheek, her manicured nails lightly pressing, and he sighed in pleasure, leaning his head on the ground to look at her in awe.

 “That was the best kiss I've ever shared with anyone.” It was true. He wasn't lying to make her feel better. Even if she hadn't really seemed to know what she was doing, it was one of the best moments of his life.

 “I'm sorry for... Well.” She giggled and the temptress pushed her hips onto him, eliciting a very soft groan and a breathless chuckle.

 “Now I'm beginning to believe it was intentional.” His tone was rather playful, something he hadn't heard from himself in years.

 “It wasn't, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a tease...” Her face was suddenly distressed, and she looked scared. Of him? He felt a pang in his chest. He hadn't meant to scare her. He wasn't even sure how he had. “I-I can take care of it, if you want, it's only fair...”

 “Belle, it's okay. I was only joking. It's not your fault, and you don't owe me a thing.” He watched her swallow hard and he sat up, leaning on the shelf. He kept her on his lap, and he took her hands in his own. “Why do you think you owe me?”

 “I... I used to date this guy. I never liked him much, my father just wanted us to date so I did. And, um... whenever he would get aroused, he would grow angry with me when I didn't w-want to have sex. I didn't love him, I had not desire to be with him. I don't really see a point in sex without love, I felt ill from kissing him, I... So he... He would...” She looked down, swallowing hard, her gaze locked on his tie instead of his face. His heart was somewhere in his stomach. He knew what was coming.

 “Belle...”

 “He never made me have sex completely. He tried to make me use my hand a few times, but I wouldn’t. So he hit me.”

 “Which is why you offered to take care of it for me. You thought I would harm you if...” He trailed off, pulling her forward into a warm hug. She leaned into him, her body seeming so small now that they were upright. He had lost his erection completely from her story, and he felt sick to his stomach. He also wanted to find the man who had sexually, verbally, and physically abused her and rip him apart. He didn't deserve to be called a man. More like pond scum.

 “Let me just clarify, I knew you wouldn't. I know you're a good man. I just... I don't know, it was a brief thought, I guess.”

 “Very understandable. The feelings that come from such experiences don’t just go away. If you don't want to see me again, I understand that too, I-”

 “No! No, don't say that. Of course I want to see you again.” She caressed his cheek with her soft hands. “I love seeing you.”

 “You still owe me that photography show, you know.”

 “Oh! I do, don't I? I'll come by later this week, my album is very nearly all set.” He nodded, his hands stroking her side. “And how about now, you let me buy you lunch?”

 “You want to buy me lunch?”

 “Buy us lunch.” She smiled at him, and his heart thumped loudly. They never paid for the other's meal. Was she asking him on a date?

 “Do you mean as in a...”

 “A date, yes.” She stood up off him and fixed her clothes, offering him both her hands. He took them sheepishly and stood, slowly regaining his balance. She picked his cane up and handed it to him, smiling up at him. “Well? Yes or no?”

 “Oh, yes, of course it's a yes. I would never say no to you.” She took his hand tightly, beginning to pull him along, and he followed obediently. He grabbed her jacket along the way, his grip awkward as he tried to balance the cane with it. “The point of me coming here was to give you this.”

 “And instead you saved my life.” She beamed at him, and he rolled his eyes, doing his best to keep up with her energetic pace.

 “That might be a bit extreme, really, I just cushioned the landing.” She squeezed his hand and didn't say another word. They passed the white haired librarian who looked up from dozing off in her chair.

 “I'm taking lunch a little early, Mrs. Haggerty.” The older woman gave her a suggestive look, and he shifted in discomfort as her eyes roamed him. On the bright side, she made him look young.

 “You kids be smart. Use protecti-”

 “Mrs. Haggerty!” Belle blushed brightly as she cut her off, and he could feel his own cheeks heat up much to his horror. He was a forty year old man, he shouldn't be blushing like a teenager. But if only that was how lunch was spent. She dragged him out much faster and he had just enough time to receive a wink from the woman before they were once again in the chilled air of Autumn. She stopped to take her jacket, pulling it on. “I'm really sorry. She's ninety something, at that age you just have no filter, I guess.”

 “It's perfectly alright. It's not as if it's an insulting insinuation for me.” Though they had made-out on the floor, it wasn't solid enough evidence that Belle had feelings for him. She could have been caught up in their position, or perhaps she was just curious, or wanted an interesting story to tell. She had said she didn't want sex without love, and honestly, his mind agreed with that despite his accursed body. But then again, a kiss wasn't inherently sexual, and she was asking him on a date. He would have to see how it went.

 They walked hand and hand to Granny's as she rambled about her current reading material. He listened intently, tightening his hand slightly whenever they neared a crack on the pavement. He had many years experience with a cane, he was precise, but she had just proved to him that she was clumsy. He would keep her from harm. He released her hand to hold open the door for her, and he was tugged away as he approached the counter. She pulled him to a booth in the corner, and he smiled slightly. It was much better for conversation, and he'd be able to look at her more. Miss Lucas approached, smirking.

 “About time.” Belle blushed, looking away from him shyly. “What will it be?”

 He looked to her for clarification. “Two burgers, and two iced teas?” She beamed once more and nodded quickly, and Ruby wrote it down. She gave them one last look before strutting off, and Belle looked at him sheepishly.

 “Since we've started having lunch at the same time... she's been pushing me to make it an actual date. I told her when I finally asked you we would take a booth.So that’s how she knew right away” He couldn't help but smile.

 “You actually spoke about me to your friends?”

 “Of course. Our lunches have become the highlight of my day.” She reached over and held his hand, and he looked down in awe. He laced his fingers with her own comfortably, and they looked across at each other.

 “Just as they have mine.”  Her hand was small slightly cold, but fit rather nicely. He was thankful his line of work allowed him to have nice hands as opposed to rough ones. Her skin was so soft and delicate, though he could see a few papercuts. From the books, obviously. As she looked at him with a smile, he realized then that he had absolutely no idea what to say. They had talked many times before, but she had done at least 75% of it. He wasn't sure he knew where to start. Thankfully, she must have seen his helpless expression because she took mercy on him.

 “Have you received any interesting pieces in your shop lately?” Bless her, taking pity on a lonely old pawnbroker.

 “As a matter of fact, yes. I actually got a box of old books. Fragile and worn, but some are first editions.” Her eyes went wide and she leaned closer to him.

 “Really? That's so exciting! When I bring my album by, could I look at them?” She looked so beautiful, even more so when her eyes were alight with joy. And he had been the one to put it there. His heart clenched, and he nodded right away.

 “Of course you can, dear.” He desperately hoped she couldn't see the sweat forming at his temple. He realized with embarrassment the palm of the hand she held was also growing damp. She either didn't notice, or the prospect of vintage books was enough for her to overlook it. It was a good thing he had such interesting books in his possession, because he was a complete mess. He was forty years old, there was no excuse to be so nervous around a woman. And yet, he was nearly choking on his own heart. But Belle French was no ordinary woman, every move she made was magic.

 It was Granny who brought their meals over, and she gently placed Belle's before her, then slammed his down in front of him. “The pickles cost extra.” Young Lucas never charged him for them.

 “Trying to drain my wallet so I can't afford my date? A good effort, but I assure a dollar for pickles won't break the bank.” She glared at him, then looked between him and Belle, leaning down to him.

 “I'm watching you, Mr. Gold. You better be damn careful with this girl. Namely her heart. She's like a sister to Ruby and a second granddaughter to me. The well behaved one.” Belle blushed brightly as Ruby glared across the room fondly.

 “Granny, it's fine, Mr. Gold isn't like the last one... He's a gentleman, and very respectful.” She smiled warmly at him, her other hand coming up to squeeze his between them. He swallowed hard. A gentleman wouldn't have made out on the floor of a public library, and a gentleman wouldn't masturbate over photos every night. He would always be respectful of Belle's wishes and boundaries, but to say he was a gentleman was a stretch.

 “How do you know? You don't know him well enough to know he isn't like him.” Belle looked down, one hand free to fidget with the pile of fries on her plate.

 “Yes I do. He's never been anything but kind. Now Granny, I promise, I'm fine. I asked him out myself.”

 Granny turned and have him another hard look. “Belle is a special girl, Mr. Gold. I would hate to see what happens to you if you hurt her.” He had to admit, the old bat was good at threats, and just crazy enough to follow through. He had to respect how protective of Belle she was, and he was happy to know she had a family other than her drunk of a father.

 “Luckily for me and certain parts of my body, I have no intention of hurting Belle, in any way you're accusing me of. Her body, mind, and heart are all safe with me.” The old woman nodded, giving one final flare before she went back behind the counter.

 “Michael, I'm so sorry about that, she's just... Very straightforward. I know you're not going to hurt me. And I'm not going to hurt you.” She squeezed his hand, and he lifted the joined pile to his lips, kissing her's on the back slowly, lingering to look in her eyes. She giggled, either from how out of place the gesture was or the tickle of the slight stubble from a few days without a shave.

 “It's alright. I can respect a woman who is protective of another one. Besides, she has never liked me, so I'm not surprised.” He reluctantly released her hand so they could eat their burgers.

 “Why doesn't she like you?”

 “Well, I don't think anyone really likes me for many reasons. But a big one is no one really likes their landlord. She and I have a complicated history.” She smiled in understanding.

 The rest of their date went fairly well despite a brief and light debate on who would pay. They finally decided they would have lunch like this every day, so they would switch off who paid. She took care of it, and then they stood up to return to their places of employment. She took his arm, her other hand on his own as they walked down the street leisurely, talking and laughing.

 “You did not!”

 “Indeed I did.”

 “Michael, you can't expect me to believe that. That just sounds plain wrong.” He stopped outside the library, continuing to look at her sincerely as she giggled in disbelief. “Really?” He nodded again, and she gasped playfully, reaching up to push some of his windswept hair back into place.

 “Yes, really, I truly had rather short hair and a goatee at one point. It was to make me look older before I realized I needed long hair to look right.” She kept running her hands through his hair, her hand at the nape of his neck to toy with it. Normally, he would snap at anyone who touched his hair besides his specific hairdresser he saw once a month for a trim. But Belle's hands felt wonderful, and images of them watching a movie as he laid his head in her lap to let her play with the soft locks flashed through his mind. Then, those images turned to him shifting his head and devouring the treasure between her thighs while she gripped his hair. He wanted both.

 “I can't picture you with short hair. Your hair as it is has always been one of my favorite physical things about you. It's so gorgeous.” He let out a quiet moan as her nails scratched the sensitive nape of his neck, tiny hairs standing up. She looked up at the clock tower and sighed.

 “My lunch was always already minutes too long, and I went too early.” He nodded slightly in agreement, and one hand came to rest on his shoulder, the other still toying with his hand. He held her arm with one hand, his cane shifted so his other hand could hold her at the waist. She looked up slightly to look at his face, her own close to his. “Thank you for everything today.”

 “It is I who should be thanking you. For giving me a chance.” She smiled, her eyes flicking to his lips, and he took the prompt. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips, his hand pushing her waist closer to him. She deepened it as he went to pull away and he was no fool, he happily continued to kiss her. It was a completely inappropriate kiss to have in the center of town where all could see, but frankly, he didn't give a damn. If she wanted to show public affection, he would do whatever she was comfortable with. David Nolan (and really, did the man hang around waiting for them?) murmured 'nice, Gold' under his breath. People were staring at them more than they usually did but Belle didn't care. They essentially made out in the street for about a minute before she pulled back, her hands on his chest. He went to say his goodbyes before she leaned up and pecked his lips again, pulling away before he could get what he wanted from it. She smiled at him before she disappeared into the library, leaving him standing there grinning like a fool.

 “I'm impressed, Gold.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, meeting the chest of David Nolan before he looked up. “Nice.”

 “Thank you, Mr. Nolan, I too am extremely impressed. Shocked really.”

 He turned on his heel and walked back to his shop, feeling happy. After a few hours he went home a bit early, pulling his mail out of the mailbox. She had left him another envelope, and he went inside with it. He waited until after his pizza came and was eaten before he opened it.

  _Mr. Gold,_

_I'm not going to answer that just yet. Someday, it will all make sense, and I'll tell you who I am and we could meet. For now, just enjoy._

God, was she a tease. He took the photo out, moaning softly as he saw it. She had her black lace clad ass arched to him, her hand visibly rubbing her slit. He wanted to shove that hand aside and fuck her until she screamed out. He blushed from his own thoughts, looking down at his trousers. He could go to his bedroom and furiously masturbate over this image and release some of the built up sexual tension from the day. But today he had went on a date with Belle French, Belle fucking French, and he had made out with and grinded on her. He went upstairs and put the photo and the note in with the others.

 He had a schedule worked out. He would collect the photos each day as usual and appreciate them. However, any day he was in contact with Belle, he would not use the photos. He wouldn't need them, right now he smelled like flowery perfume, could still feel dainty hands in his hair, and could still hear a sweet little moan was enough. Clearly, she liked him and had been willing to fumble on the floor, and really, he wasn't the first man to masturbate over a woman after a date. It was natural. Not to mention the simple fact that he had already been pleasuring himself over her but simply denying it. It wasn't fair to the faceless woman, but he had all but photoshopped Belle's face on.

 What would he do the day that woman wanted to meet, if it ever came? The pictures were one thing. If she came to his door in those panties and begged him to take her, what would he do?

 He would say no. He was a man of self-control when it came to others. He would turn her away from his door as politely as he could with a promise of discretion. The reason was simple. Someday, he wanted to be exclusive with Belle. He wanted her to introduce him as her boyfriend, even if he was certainly he was too old to be a boyfriend. They were not officially together yet, but it was still enough for him to be faithful to her. The pictures weren't cheating in his eyes, married men looked at pornography all the time. At least it wasn't cheating for their current status. They day she called them official was the day he put his flag up. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the safety in this anonymous woman. He couldn't make any mistakes with her, and she couldn't break his heart like Belle could. When he and Belle were a couple, he would tell her about the photographs and they could burn them together, and the flag would rise.

 For now, he had the safe anonymity of pictures with no actual relationship. It was the equivalent to googling naked women but he had permission to look. That was always one of his qualms about pornography. How was he to know if the woman really wanted to be there or if she was pressured or forced? He was a lawyer who had seen lives destroyed, and he would never do anything without consent, whether it be Belle's or the woman's.

 He changed for bed, and when he returned he tapped the screen of his iPhone, surprised to see a new message. He picked it up and entered his code. Obviously it was Belle, no one texted him.

_B: Hey :) I hope you had a good rest of the day._

 He was thankful she wasn't here, or had taken him a good ten seconds to realize a colon plus a parenthesis bar was intended as a smile. He was not the most technologically advanced. 

_M: I did, thank you. Was yours alright as well?_

_B:It was! We got a new shipment of books in so I had fun adding them to the collection. But it was gross, Fifty Shades of Grey was in the box. I hope Mrs. Haggerty doesn't realize I didn't put it out on the self._

_M:As a lawyer I could have a field day with the charges that could be leveled against that man._

_B:Glad you don't like it, some guys don't get it._

_M:I do. Just what are you doing up so late, Belle?_

_B: Texting you, silly :P_

Colon P was even harder to decode, but he deduced it was a face sticking it's tongue out. She was adorable. It was something he would like to see in person rather than over a text.

  _M:_ _A good choice. What else are you doing?_

_B:_ _Oh, I'm just laying in bed..._

He closed his eyes a moment. He would not be a pervert and add more to that statement. She was likely in large pajama pants and a t-shirt with her hair up messily. Which was still so hot to think about. He groaned in annoyance, thinking of what to reply. He didn't know what to say, and he wasn't going to be lecherous about it.

  _M:Same here._

The next message was a photo of her. It was innocent enough. It was a self-portrait (he was almost certain the word to describe it was a 'selfie') of her laying in bed. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, and she wore a tight v-neck t-shirt. His tried not to linger on her breasts for too long, and he had to reach down to shift his now erect member to a more comparable position. He wished she was in his bed like that. Though if he did things right she wouldn't be wearing clothes, unless they were his.

  _M:_ _You are breathtakingly beautiful._

_B:_ _Awww, but I'm not even wearing makeup._

_M:_ _You don't need it. With or without I think you're stunning._

_B:_ _I miss you, Michael. Will you come by the library tomorrow? Before lunch so we can walk over?_

_M:_ _Yes, definitely. And I miss you too. I'll come over at noon and I'll escort you._

_B:_ _Yes! Thank you. I'm gonna go to sleep now. Thank you for not being annoyed with me texting you._

_M:_ _You can text me anytime. Or call. Or both at once if you want to multi-task._

_B:I_ _t's way too late for you to make me giggle, I'm so tired._

_M:A tired giggle? I bet it was adorable. Goodnight, darling._

_B:_ _You'll find out someday... Night ;)_

He didn't even have to think about what that one was. It was a winking face, which meant there was innuendo behind her words. His cock twitched with joy at the thought. Belle someday planned to be in bed with him? He smiled, sighing in what could only be described as a dreamy fashion. He was quite tired himself, but he knew he had to have some release after the day, so he lazily but briskly stroked his need away. Once he finished, he trashed the tissue and rolled onto his side. If he thought hard enough he could still recall her scent. It was enough to send him into the most peaceful sleep he had had in a long time.


	4. Mosiac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry it's been so long, but hey, this chapter is lengthy so I hope it makes up for the time. It's a little angsty, and it does contain some selections about domestic violence that might be triggery. There also isn't anything sexy but I'll give you some of that next time ;) Enjoy, and comment or kudos if you enjoyed it!

Carrying a tray with two cups of hot tea down an uneven sidewalk was harder than he had originally calculated. He alternated between watching where his cane landed and where he was actually walking. But, it was all worth it. He had decided to bring Belle tea upon receiving an early morning text from her. Had he had the ability to use two hands he would read it again, though he had already memorized it.

_Good morning dear :) thanks for keeping me up so late, how can I give the Dewey Decimal System the care it deserves if I'm so tired?! How'd you sleep? ___

It was sweet, caring, and flirty all in one, and it had sincerely touched him. He had been surprised to find she woke up before even he did, though she had informed him she went on runs twice a week and in turn woke early those days. He had felt a pang as he was reminded that he would never run with her.

He shook his head to free himself of the thoughts. Belle didn't care if he could run with her. As long as he made her happy, none of that would matter. He approached the library door and eyed it a moment, awkwardly shifting his cane so he was able to turn the handle to enter. He wore a smile as he approached the desk, but it quickly faded. There was a tall, handsome, muscular man leaning against it, very blatantly flirting with Belle. He couldn't see her face, but all he could picture was her beaming up at the man. He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at the floor as his face burned and his vision blurred.

“So baby, I was thinking you and I could grab dinner tonight, after I finish up at the gym, it’s leg day. My treat.” The man could run with her. He could lift her up and carry her in his arms, he could run through the trails in the woods, he would surely satisfy her sexual needs. He could do everything Michael couldn't. All he had to offer was an intellectual conversation and interesting antiques. Not exactly something a beautiful young woman was interested in, not in the long run anyways. “And then maybe back to my place for a little more.” He closed the door and left then. He couldn't handle hearing anymore. He began to walk to his shop, shoving the tray of beverages at the town drunk Leroy with a murmured suggestion of adding alcohol to it. 

His leg hurt more than usual as he limped heavily to his shop, but his heart hurt more. He supposed he couldn't blame her for wanting options. His reputation was horrible and they hadn't decided on an official relationship title. He had no right to be jealous and no right to be upset. But he was. But he would keep quiet and not say a word. It would just make her even less interested in him, he would look like a controlling and possessive asshole. He unlocked his shop and entered, leaving the sign flipped and immediately locking it back up. He went into the back of his shop, sinking down on the cot and lifting his legs along it, leaning his head on the wall. He had quit smoking seven years ago, yet he craved a cigarette and to be blind, stupid, messy drunk. Maybe Leroy would join him if he paid for their drinks.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there but he eventually passed out, sleeping until quarter of noon. Almost time for lunch. But he wasn't going. He would seem even more unimpressive and undesirable if he walked in after she'd been invited out by a six and a half foot tall Adonis. Maybe it was better this way, at least for her. She could be with someone attractive and roughly her age. And if there was anything his past had taught him, it was that he was better off alone. Being certain of that was made difficult solely by the fact that his blasted heart had a mind of it's own. He wished he could rip it out.

He sat in the back of his shop all day, going from sitting there blankly and sleeping. He felt as though he had no strength, there wasn't any light in his day now. But then he remembered. There was. The woman from the photographs. He quickly sat up, glancing at his watch. 4:37. She had probably already arrived, her pictures were always in with his regular mail which arrived around 2:00. He assumed she put them in shortly after the mail was delivered so as to give herself an adequate window of time before he got home. He stood and grabbed his cane, heading straight for his car. He tried not to speed home. 

He went right for his mailbox, his car parked (poorly) in the driveway. He pulled a decent stack of mail out, his cane on his arm as he sifted through it once, twice, and then three times. She hadn't sent anything. He turned and got back into his car, tossing the mail on the seat. He was going to the liquor store.

He turned the radio off, driving in complete silence. He specifically took an overly complicated route to avoid driving past Miss French's apartment and the library. Part of him was tempted to go to the cesspool that was The Rabbit Hole and try to get with one of the barflies. All he would have to do was flash his solid gold watch and open his wallet so all the bills showed and it would be simple. He could at least forget for the night. But he couldn't. Even if Miss French was seeing others, he still had strong feelings for only her. In the end, he knew that would just make him feel even more alone. It seemed that with the exception of misery, everything in his life was temporary. 

He parked at the curb outside the liquor store, slowly getting out. He limped inside, going straight for the more expensive section. Usually he ordered his alcohol from more refined sellers but he was almost out at home. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He grabbed two bottles of their best yet still subpar scotch before cursing his lack of foresight as he tried to take a third.

“So is one of those for the same woman you got the second drink for this morning?” He turned at the sound of the sharp tone, and there stood Ruby Lucas, her arms folded. She was looking at him as if she wanted to smash one of the bottles over his head and shank him with whatever didn’t shatter. Just great, he was hoping to have a woman angry with him tonight.

“Miss Lucas. If you must know, these are all for me. Not that it's any of your business.” He kept his tone curt and tried to step around her, but she quickly blocked him, stretching her arms so they were against the shelves. He would have to duck under her arms or push her to go past, and they both knew he wouldn't do either of those things. He would have to listen to whatever her complaint was. 

“Maybe that's not my business, but you hurting my best friend is definitely my business.” Her glare intensified if that was possible. He really didn't like that he had to look up a bit to meet the gaze.

“And how exactly did I hurt Miss French, I w-”

“Miss French? You asshole! You dry hump her on the floor, take her to lunch, text her late into the night, and she's Miss French again the next day? Fuck you!”

“She told you all that?”

“Obviously, because she was fucking happy you guys had moved forward together! Do you realize how lucky you are, Mr. Gold? Belle has guys nearly lining up for her, and she's turned down at least twenty dates in the past year because of her crush on you.” 

“What?” He was sincerely shocked. Why would she plan a date with another man the very day after he had had one with her. He felt his heart sink low. He had misunderstood, and because of that, he had hurt her feelings. “This morning, when I had the tea, I went to the library to bring her it. And I saw her talking to a man, and he had asked her on a date. I left before I hear the answer but I suppose that was rash.”

“Wait... A man? Mr. Gold, what did he look like? Was he tall?”

“Quite. Over a foot taller than her. Spoke like one of the usual unintelligent Neanderthal types.” Her face paled, and she suddenly looked terrified. 

“Dark hair? Athletic clothes?”

“Yes and yes. Miss Lucas, is there more to this situation?”

“Obviously! That was her abusive ex-boyfriend! He must have heard you guys went out and kissed very publicly so he went to try and get her out again.” His mouth hung open, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. His blood was boiling and his hand gripped his cane tight enough that had it been something weaker than solid gold, he would have dented it with his fingers.

“Oh, shit...” He started to put the alcohol back on the shelf quickly, the facing sloppy and hasty. “I have to go to her apartment now. I have to make sure she's safe.” Despite her own fear, Miss Lucas wore a slight smile at the words.

“The guy is huge and works out tons, Gold, be careful...”

“Any man who even thinks of harming a woman, especially one who is scarcely over 5 feet and half his weight, is not someone I would fear. He's a coward.” It was ironic for him to say such a thing about someone else. But this fellow was an entirely different type of coward. “What's his name?”

“Garrett Aston.”

“Good. They'll need it for his tombstone if he's laid a finger on her.” He nearly snarled it, and Ruby smirked.

“What are you waiting for? Go! Belle needs you. I'll follow you over.” He nodded, turning and limping out as quickly as he could. His tires skidded as he pulled out recklessly, speeding down the road towards her apartment building. On the plus side, she was his tenant. If he needed to force his way in because of the asshole, he had access to a key. But he was just as likely to smash his way through the drywall. His heart was thudding out of his chest as all the horrible scenarios rushed through his head.

She could have been raped and was now laying alone, scared and in pain. She could have been beaten, she could even have been killed. He was going to crush Aston, he would see if it was possible to impale someone on a cane and make it come out their mouth. He wouldn't hesitate to rip him apart if Belle was hurt.

He pulled up at the apartment complex, walking right up to the doorman. “Give me my master key right now.” The man jumped out visibly, quickly retrieving the key and giving it to him. He turned and went to the elevator, cursing as he remembered it was out of order. He turned to the stairs, taking them as quickly as he could, and by the time he was on the fourth floor, he was panting. He took a moment to catch his breath before he went to apartment eleven. He knocked on the door loudly and frantically.

“I-I'm almost ready, I'll be there, please...”

“Belle, Belle, it's me, it's Mr. Gold. It's Michael!” He heard a gasp and then heels clicking as she rushed to the door. But she didn't open it.

“Oh, now you care about me? I texted you five times, Michael! You didn't reply once or even read them!” His heart sank in his chest, and he pulled his phone out. She was right. The small crescent moon in the the corner reminded him that he had put it on do not disturb mode.

_11:45: I had a really rough morning, I can't wait to see you. You always brighten things up... Look forward to lunch! :)_

_12:30: Everything okay? I'm in our booth. See you soon?_

_1:39: Michael. I'm worried, and I really need to talk to someone... Please. I need YOU._

_3:23: I can't decide if I'm hurt and angry you're ignoring me or scared you're in danger. Probably both._

_4:15: Yeah just keep ignoring me. Don't know what I did but whatever. Bye. ___

__He was certain he had never felt like more of an asshole, especially now that he knew what had happened to her this morning. If he had just swallowed the cowardice and went inside with the tea, she would have been safe. He'd have protected her from that waste of space of an ex-boyfriend._ _

__“Belle... I am so sorry... Please let me in so I can explain...”_ _

__“You can talk just fine from the other side of the door, Mr. Gold.” She may as well have just smacked him across the face. He didn't want to be Mr. Gold anymore._ _

__“This morning, I had went to Granny's in the morning. I bought us some tea. I was going to bring it over. You had said you were tired, so I... I wanted to bring you some caffeine. When I arrived, I saw that guy and heard him ask you out. I was an idiot, I was too rash, I left before I even gave you a chance to say no. I'm so sorry Belle.” There was silence and then the door slowly opened. He felt sick to his stomach with guilt as he saw her. She had a poorly concealed bruise on her left eye. He felt like he could sob. “That is all my fault... If I had just... I didn't want you to think I was crazy or possessive. I didn't want to just stomp in and shove him away, I didn't know he was your ex-boyfriend. Had I known, I would have gotten him as far away from you as possible.” She looked down, nodding slightly._ _

__“You can come in, Michael.” She stepped aside and he slowly entered, finally taking in her outfit. She had on heavy make-up other than the cover-up, and her dress was so short it would barely have to be pushed to have intercourse. She didn't look like herself. “I know I look like a prostitute... But he gave this to me and said I had to wear it or I was in trouble.”_ _

__“How about you go get changed and I'll make us some tea?” She nodded, quickly locking the door. “Miss Lucas is going to come as well.”_ _

__“I'm going to tell her I want to be alone awhile. George won't bother me with a witness.” He nodded, and she took her phone out, sending a quick message. “Make yourself at home.” She disappeared behind one of two doors, and he went to the kitchen, filling the kettle on her counter and setting it on the stove to boil. He then hung his jacket on one of the hooks on the wall, taking a seat on the couch. Despite how small it was, her apartment was rather nice. She had a large bookshelf along the majority of one wall, and he smiled slightly. He wasn't as passionate as her but he did enjoy a good book, and he was especially intrigued by her having physical copies despite the modern age and the popularity of e-books._ _

__She came out in a pair of fitted black sweatpants (they were called yoga pants, he believed) and she had put her hair up in a loose and messy ponytail. She had removed all of her makeup and put on a large t-shirt. She looked so beautiful, and he was quite pleased that she felt comfortable enough around him to dress so comfortably. He loosened his tie. She padded over to him quietly, and he stood as she neared to finish the tea. He had never realized quite how tiny she was. He was a great deal taller than her, and that was saying something. He briefly rubbed her arm before heading over, pouring two mugs and hiding his disdain at her tea bags as he plopped them in. He would invite her to his house and make her a proper cup. He joined her once it was ready, taking a seat._ _

__“Thank you.” She took a small and cautious sip, smacking her lips as she inevitably drank it while it was too hot. She seemed to be struggling with something before her gaze turned determined. She scooted closer to him so their sides were touching. He took the cue and wrapped his arm around her. She was holding herself together well but he could see that the walls were crumbling slowly. Then they broke, tears flowing out of her eyes. He wordlessly pulled her into his embrace, running his hands along her back. “I'm sorry, I'm a mess, I...”_ _

__“No, no, sweetheart, it's okay. You have every right to be upset. I'm here for you.” She nodded into his shoulder, her arms tightening, holding a fistful of his waistcoat. He had never felt more needed in his life. He straightened his back and tightened his arms, attempting to make himself bigger around her despite lacking muscles and broad shoulders. He leaned his chin on the top of her head, feeling her shift her legs so they were tucked up against him. “You want to talk about it?”_ _

__“I do. He asked me out as you know, and I said n-no. I wanted to be brave. He grabbed my chin and asked me again. I said it more firmly. That was when he smacked me across the f-face. He called me... The c word. He then said he had heard the rumors about us, one of his friends saw us kiss yesterday... He said he would hurt you if I didn't go out with him. I c-couldn't risk you, so I said yes. He's going to be here any minute. You should go so you're safe.” He was certain he was squeezing her in an almost painful grip, so he let up slightly, but she held him tighter in response. He wanted to beat the man within an inch of his life, break his fingers with a hammer, crush him with his car. Anything to make him feel more pain than he made Belle feel._ _

__“I will be absolutely fine. I may not look like much, but I imagine I have more tact than him.” He didn't verbally say it, but he could ruin the man's life in less than an hour if he wanted. He could have his bank accounts frozen, evict him, dig up every particle of dirt on him and release it to the public. But he wouldn't release what he'd done to Belle without her permission. That was her decision, and one who could not make for her. It was reasonable if she just wanted to move on with her life, but should she ever want to press charges, he'd help her in a heartbeat._ _

__“Michael, please, if you're in danger leave me here. I'm used to it.” He felt a surge of anger fill him, red and hot, his blood burning. Not at her, none of this was her fault, but at Aston. He hurt her so severely, and those four words were even more heartbreaking than the mantra of “I don't want you” that had echoed through his head in her voice. It was heartbreaking because it was real, not fabricated from a lonely man's cruel imagination. The words were desperately trying to hide emotion and fear, and to someone who didn't know her very well, it likely would have worked. He understood her, however, he'd spent 45 minutes a day with her for months now. He knew what her eyes looked like when they lit up with joy, and he knew the subtle changes of when they filled with pain._ _

__“Hey, it's okay. I'm never going to leave you, sweetheart, I'm going to ensure you're safe. I promise.” She looked at him in awe, and he gently ran his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the wetness. “Even if you don't want me the way I want you, I'll protect you.” He opened his mouth to speak again, doing his best at comforting her, but she leaned in and kissed him deeply. Her hand instantly grabbed hold of his hair, her nails lightly scratching the back of his neck. It was heaven in a physical connection, and if he died then and there, at least he'd have this moment to reply as he burned in Hell._ _

__He let out a noise of surprise as she straddled his lap, her arms winding around his neck. His hands gripped uselessly in the air before settling on her waist. The yoga pants were thin and didn't separate much of their bodies. All his hopes that she wouldn't take note of just what was in contact with her were crushed as she very intentionally ground her hips down on him. She loosened his tie more and pulled it off. Her kiss had turned desperate and it occurred to him that she was still deeply upset, she may have been trying to drown her sorrows in his embrace. She wasn't in a proper state of mind to go any further than a few soft, controlled kisses. His manhood screamed at him to throw away the shred of morality he had and let it happen._ _

__With hands gently on her soft arms, he pushed her back, attempting to separate their lips. She whimpered, pushing back into him, a hand running through the front of his hair sensually. She tightened her legs around him and his arms pulled her closer. She wanted this much at least, and it wasn't something they hadn't done before. He had enough self control to stop it things should they start to progress further. He could handle himself. She gently pulled him back, cupping his cheeks as she looked at his face, small fingers stroking his slightly rough jaw. She tilted her head so her neck was exposed more, biting her lip, and the cue was quite clear. He leaned in, pressing his lips to her neck. His grip on her was strong and protective, and his lips moved against her soft skin, seeking out sensitive spots. His tongue ran along her throbbing pulse point, and she moaned softly, the sound sending a jolt of arousal right to his cock. She lifted off him, her hand on the back of his head to show she didn't want him to stop. She tried to tug him so his body was on top of his own, and he struggled with himself internally. What if being in such a trapped and submissive position frightened her? His internal struggle was cut off by a pounding knock on the door and he pulled back, turning to look at it. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she pulled him closer, her body trembling._ _

__“Open the fucking door, Belle.” His hand made a tight fist. He was going to kill him for cursing at her alone._ _

__“It's okay. I promise. Just stay here, and I'll handle everything.” She nodded slightly, her small frame shivering and shaking, and he grabbed his jacket off the coat rack, draping it over her, watching as she slid both her arms through the sleeves, pulling it tight. It was large around her but she wasn't drowning in it. It made her look quite comfortable, and he stood, kissing her on the head. As he passed by a mirror, he noticed he had a faint trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. He didn't care, let the man see what he'd lost out on when he decided he raise his hand to her. He gripped his cane by the sleek black handle, more than ready to fight to his death. He turned the lock, took a step back, and opened the door. He had to look up to see the man's face but that didn't make his threatening look fade._ _

__“What the fuck are you doing here, Gold? That's my girlfriend.” He narrowed his eyes and folded his rippling arms. He may have been a coward, but Belle was sitting in the fetal position on the couch, wrapped up in his jacket. He wished he hadn't left his gun in his car. But he didn't need it, or at least he told himself. Muscles and physical strength did not automatically determine how good of a fighter one was, and he wasn't opposed to fighting dirty. He'd bludgeon his face in with his cane after politely telling Belle to look away. People tended to underestimate him due to his size and limp. He used his secret strength and technique to his advantage. This wouldn't be his first fight._ _

__“Don't believe she's your girlfriend, dearie. On the contrary, she's made it perfectly clear what you are. Nothing.” The last word was snarl, and they both stared at each other. He would admit it was intimidating to have to look up to see him. But he had a beautiful and broken woman relying on him. He had something to fight for, and Aston had nothing but his pigheaded brain._ _

__“Get the fuck out of here. You're not what she needs, she needs discipline, someone to keep her in line. Not some fifty year old cripple.” He scoffed. He was barely over forty. The nerve of children._ _

__“I would turn and leave, Mr. Aston. If you know what's good for you. I can make your life exceedingly difficult.”_ _

__“You won't be able to do that from your hospital room. I'm gonna beat your scrawny ass.” Aston raised his meaty fist and punched him right in the face, but his fist wasn't formed properly, therefore the punch hurt him as well. Michael shook away the blind pain coursing through him, fighting off the urge to sit. Belle, Belle needed him. Aston shook his hand off a moment, wincing slightly._ _

__“Not used to punching someone who's closer to your equal? It's okay, dearie, I can show you.” He knew it would be too difficult to reach his face, such a vertical punch would lack force and look ridiculous, so he punched him right in the gut, making him gasp as he knocked the wind out of him._ _

__“You ain't my equal. No cripple who can't even run is equal to me. I'm gonna fuck you up.”_ _

__“You're an ignorant fool. I don't need to be able to run. You're the one who is going to be running out of here. If I let you.” Aston scoffed, but he cried in pain from a smack to the knee._ _

__“You ain't fighting fair! You got a weapon, that's cheap.”_ _

__“Cheap? That's cheap? So is beating up a defenseless person like Belle! Do you see how massive you are? She doesn't stand a chance against you, you're the one who isn't fighting fair!”_ _

__“Shut the fuck up, she needs it! I ain't ever gonna let a woman tell me what to do. They're smaller for a reason, so they're easier to put in their place.” He heard Belle sob from someplace behind him, and it only renewed his desire to kill._ _

__“You're a moron if you think size or sex determines your place. You have no right to hit her, and no matter what you say, that doesn't change! Maybe I should cut off your hands, see how tough you are with two stumps!” He saw him swallow hard, and he even took a step back. He smirked. He was the one who needed to be put in his place. Beneath those muscles and big man words was someone even more cowardly than he._ _

__“You just don't know a shit about power! She needs someone to have it over her, that's how you keep a woman in line and happy! I'm powerful, obviously she's gonna want me, she just needs help submitting.”_ _

__“I know nothing about power? Oh, on the contrary. I have more power than you could fathom. And I don't have to beat up my girlfriend to get it. I own this town. You're on my territory. And I think if you ask Belle want she wants you're going to be solely disappointed in the answer.” He had to admit, his fault was being too cocky. He made a gesture and it gave the man an opening. He pushed into the apartment, Belle squealing in fear and jumping from the couch, backing away with her hands up._ _

__“Garrett, p-please don't, please don't hurt me.” She looked terrified, and it made his heart hurt. He made his way over, doing his best while keeping his cane in his hand._ _

__“Tell me the truth, cunt, who do you want? Me, or this suit wearing, long haired faggot?” He roared it at her, and Michael scoffed. The fact that he had to resort to insulting his far superior style and pathetic slurs would have been laughable had he not been near Belle._ _

__“H-him.” It was one simple word, and it was enough to make Aston scream out a swear. Before he could hurt her, Michael swung his cane into the back of his knee, making it wobble. He seized him by the shirt and turned him, ignoring the searing pain in each step as he backed him up. He planted his cane back on the ground to support himself as he kicked his leg, making it give out, so he was hunched over and at eye level._ _

__“You don't fucking get it! She needs it! All women need it, she ought to know her place which is beneath- oh, fuck!” His sexist and disturbing tirade was cut off by a punch to the throat and he followed it up by swinging the heavy handle of his cane up into his chiseled jaw, making him cry out in pain. He stumbled back, falling back on the wall and sliding down. No one realized just how painful it was to be hit with a cane until they realized how solid the handle was. It would leave him with bruises and possibly broken bones. He swung it back and hit him right across the cheek, and he climbed over him, beginning to punch him in the face._ _

__“That's for calling her a cunt and any other name you've used!” Another punch. ”That one is for laying your worthless hands on her when you aren't worthy of her air!” He grabbed him by the short hair and slammed his head on the floor. “That's for demeaning her and making her terrified to even breathe.” The hardest punch he'd ever thrown in his life, and he knew his nose was broken. “That's for all the times you tried to sexually assault her, and for-”_ _

__“M-Michael, please stop, you're going to kill him!” He faltered slightly as he heard the timid plea from behind him, turning enough to see Belle there, nervously tugging the sleeves of his coat. He realized with a pang she was frightened of him. “I'm scared. P-please just make him leave and come back to me, I n-need you. You've done enough, you kept me safe. Please...” He slowly planted his cane on the ground to stand up straight. He sent Dove a text to let him know he wanted Aston's unconscious body moved whether it was to a hospital or a ditch. He didn't want Belle to have to look at him. He closed the door behind him, leaving him in the hallway as he looked to Belle. He could feel wetness on his hands so he went to the sink, washing them of the blood thoroughly. He knew he didn't have to worry about being arrested. He was trespassing, as well as attempting to hurt Belle. If Aston wanted to press charges he'd have to admit why they had fought, and he was sure all the neighbors heard him openly admit to harming her. The law would be on their side._ _

__Belle was sobbing again, and she locked her door, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into her bedroom, closing that door and drawing the blinds. She turned on dim light, the room in a soft glow. Her hands shook as she unbuttoned and pulled off the waistcoat. He didn't stop her as she began to remove his tie, but once she got the top two buttons done and didn't stop, he gently grasped her hands._ _

__“Belle, what are you doing?” She didn't say anything, and he pulled her into his chest, sighing. “You need to get some rest. You'll feel better tomorrow, I promise.” She reached a hand up, and he winced as she gently touched the area around his eye._ _

__“He hurt you. That's exactly what I was afraid of.” He almost laughed. His shirt was ruined with her tears and the blood of her ex-boyfriend. And she was concerned about his well-being. He shook his head, but before he could speak, she was pushing him onto the bed and rushing off to the restroom. She came back in with a first aid kit, sitting down beside him and pushing his hair behind his ear. She put a bandage over the small cut, applying a cream to his face, making him wince. “You're going to sleep over tonight. You shouldn't drive, you might have a concussion.”_ _

__“Belle, I don't have a concussion.”_ _

__“You might.”_ _

__“I don't.”_ _

__“You might.”_ _

__“Belle!” She giggled despite her puffy face, and he smiled, his brows shooting up as she leaned in and kissed him softly._ _

__“Please stay, Michael? Just to sleep.” He kicked his shoes off, his belt following. His pants and shirt would be even more ruined than they already were. He wrapped an arm around her, and she curled around him, one hand on his chest, the other in a tight fist at his side. He rested his other hand over her own, and he could feel more tears soaking into his shirt. He ran his thumb across her cheek, wiping them up as they poured out. “I-I'm so sorry. I understand if you never want to see me again. We only just started to see each other. There's already a crazy ex, you got attacked...”_ _

__“Belle, I assure you-”_ _

__“I'm damaged, Michael. I'm broken. I'm not strong, not like I used to think I was. You deserve so much better. I'm just a pile of broken pieces.” He shook his head, holding her face in both his hands, making her look into his eyes._ _

__“I don't think you know who you are, Belle. Let me tell you, let me help you see. You are a ray of light even on the darkest day. You're not broken, you're a survivor, and I know right now you feel scared and alone. But you have nothing to fear. I will never let anyone hurt you again. You're not alone. If you'll let me, I'll be there for you. I'm here to keep you safe. You say you're broken, that you're just pieces. You're a mosaic. A picture with a million different pieces. And some may be jagged, some may be tiny shards. But they all make up the bigger picture. What he put you through does not define you. It's just a single piece. Nothing is more beautiful than a mosaic, especially one that's brighter and more unique than the rest.” She was sobbing again, this time into his neck, clutching him for dear life._ _

__“You mean so much to me. I don't even think you know how much. I've only known you for a year, and w-we've only just started to see each other but... I'm really lucky you're in my life. And I promise you, Michael, I'll be there for you just the same. We can stand by each other, protect each other. I think you're lonely.” He gave a slight nod to confirm it was true, and she nodded, kissing his cheek. “You don't have to be anymore. I'm here for you. I'll do my best to make you happy.”_ _

__“You already do. You make me so happy.” He wasn't sure he'd ever actually been as happy as he was with her. And the thought terrified him. Because happiness was elusive, and he could lose her at any moment, he would lose her soon enough._ _

__“Michael? Are you alright?”_ _

__“What...?”_ _

__“Your heart is racing, and you're breathing heavily. Very heavily.” His chest was tight, and his mouth was dry, as if it was full of ash. He needed a Valium or two, and the courage to be honest with her. It was easy enough to tell her how wonderful she was and how important she was to him. But it was much harder to tell her how scared he was of losing her, she was barely even his to lose. She'd label him as clingy and obsessive, and then she'd leave him. He licked his lips and swallowed some of his own spit, taking a breath. “Michael?” She sat up a bit, and he felt soft hands cup his cheeks, steadying him as he realized he was shaking. This wasn't safe. How could she ever love him? She was an angel and he a desperate beggar. But it didn't matter, not really. He was greedy. He would take as much as she'd give and he would cherish it as if he would die without it. Everyone left Michael Gold, it was a simple fact, but he was pathetic and weak. She could crush his heart as long as he had a few good memories, the knowledge that she was safe from anyone who may hurt her, and a few more nights holding her._ _

__“I'm fine, I'm alright.” It was her turn to clutch him to her, her hands combing through his hair. “You say you're broken, Belle. If you're broken, then I'm shattered.”_ _

__“Which means you're a mosaic that's even more beautiful.” He lifted his head enough to see her, his mouth hanging open in shock. She looked at him knowingly. He still couldn't breathe very well, and he felt sick to his stomach. She took his hand and placed it over her much steadier heart, allowing him to feel the rhythm it pumped at. He tried to make his breaths coincide with the beating, and eventually, she pressed her lips to his own and then to his forehead. He looked at her after, and saw no judgment and no amusement. She didn't sneer or smirk, and she didn't insult or demean his masculinity. He only saw compassion and understanding and genuine concern. And something else he was unfamiliar with. And it gave him just the slightest hope that reality could be kind to him for once, and allow him more time with this angel. He had found someone to rely on, and he just hoped she would stay. Surely the day would come where she left, but until then, he would take every ounce of love and affection she offered him, and drown himself in it._ _


	5. Beach Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Sexy stuff is back! Leave a comment or kudos if you like it! The next chapter is written already so I'll update soon!

He had left Belle's apartment after she had kindly made him breakfast. He'd been seen by several people, and he was certain that there was already a rumor spreading. It was shallow, but he wasn't going to complain if people believed he'd been with her intimately. He would of course dispel the rumors for the sake of her reputation, but that didn't mean he couldn't take a moment of enjoyment from the looks of envy he received. Someday, perhaps he would be lucky enough for it to be a reality. Though he would have to insist they go to his house for privacy reasons. 

It was a Saturday, which meant he only worked half a day at the shop, though Belle was working a full day. He had time to go home and shower and change, though he skipped shaving for the day. He needed time to prepare lunch. He made two Italian cold cut sandwiches, and packed a tupperware container with various slices of fruit in it. He put some pickles in a small bag for both of them. He added a bag of salt and vinegar chips, Belle's favorite kind, in order to balance out the meal. He put everything in a basket. He was going to invite her to join him in the park. He was going to prove that he was, as he'd heard Miss Lucas say about a boy she was seeing, 'boyfriend material.' 

He had to stop at the grocery store to pick up some sweet iced tea. Belle drank it as if it was a necessity, but he himself only drank it when he was with her. It would be smart to have some in his house, just in case she blessed him with her company. He shook his head at how presumptuous he was being, but he wanted to have some hope, just this once. Belle was everything he wanted in a woman, and he'd do anything to prove he was worthy. He figured he had a chance, the girl had let him sleep in her bed with her. 

He felt a rush of panic. What if she saw him as a friend? It wasn't unusual for two friends to share a bed when one was frightened. He tried to shake off the thought. There were a dozen things saying that wasn't true, and he really needed to stop thinking. Part of him almost wanted to ask Miss Lucas for advice on the matter. She was Belle's best friend, she would be able to help. He would swallow his pride and ask.

He purchased the iced tea along with a container of potato salad. It wasn't a picnic without potato salad. He carried his bag, somehow getting roped into buying a box of cookies off a tiny pair of Girl Scouts. Everyone in town knew that despite his utter dislike of everyone else, he was always kind to the children. Belle would like dessert anyways.

He got into his car, taking a deep breath before driving the short distance to Granny's Diner. He parked on the street, planting his cane on the ground and stepping out of his car. He slowly made his way inside, Miss Lucas arching an eyebrow and looking at the clock before walking over.

“Are you here for coffee or tea? She started work an hour ago.”

“No, no, I was... I was hoping to talk to you. In private.” She gave him an odd look, smirking and popping her hip out.

“Mr. Gold, I do hope you're not asking me out.”

“What? Of course not!” He tried to disguise his cringe at the thought. He knew most of the town drooled over her as she served them. But Ruby Lucas was about as far from his type as a woman could be despite having rather nice legs. Belle was the only one he was interested in, excluding the mysterious body in the photos. But that might be over after today. “I'm here to ask about Belle.”

“Oh! Come on then.” She giggled, walking off to the corner of the diner, and he was thankful she didn't lead him into the back. He did not need rumors about him and two young women circulating. She looked at him expectantly.

“I was going to ask her to accompany me on a more secluded lunch today. I've packed us something.” 

“Oh my god.” She let out a noise of excitement, wearing a wide smirk. “You've got it bad, don't you? A picnic! Is there a ring in there too?”

“What? No! N-No! Of course not, that would be entirely inappropriate of me.” He was ashamed of his sputter, but the thought was terrifying. He wasn't even sure she liked him as he did her.

“Relax, Gold, I'm joking. If you're asking if it's a good idea my answer is hell yes. Belle is a sucker for romance. But, bring her to the park, or maybe the beach. Oh! The beach, yes!” She sounded extremely excited, and he only hoped Belle would share her enthusiasm for his attempt at wooing. “She'll love the beach, and it'll be deserted.”

“So you think it's a good idea? It doesn't seem... Desperate?”

“Aren't you?” She smirked, and he glared slightly, scoffing. He was, but he wasn't going to admit that to a cocky waitress, regardless of her friendship with the source of his desperation. “Again, a joke. You need to calm down. Look, it's perfect. I'm sorry, I'll be more serious. She is really into you, I want you guys together, I totally ship it.”

“I don't know what that means. But I appreciate it, I think. Belle is just... Well, she's not like any woman I've ever tried to date.”

“And judging by the fact that you're forty and single, that's probably a good thing. Belle is young, that's true, but in her head she's like thirty-five. She's never partied or smoked, she barely ever goes to the club with me and she doesn't pick up guys. Trust me, she likes this stuff. She doesn't want to be pawed in the back of an expensive Cadillac, and she doesn't want you to buy her shit. Don't tell her I told you this but she just wants someone to settle down with. If you're just looking to get laid-”

He held his hand up, shaking his head vigorously. “No. Absolutely not. That's not what I'm interested in. I'm interested in her as a person.” He felt like a fool pouring his heart out to a woman he'd barely ever said more than his order to, but she was Belle's best friend. He needed advice, and he had no male friends with the exception of the town lunatic. Even so, he didn't need a man's advice, he needed a woman's advice.

“Good. Then you do everything you think is right. Belle likes romance, she's the type of girl who would rather walk through the park or sit and talk for hours than go somewhere expensive. She likes cheesy. Take her cute places, give her silly gifts that don't cost much, give her flowers, gush over how pretty she is. Because let's face it, you're not getting better than Belle. Look around this town and try to find better, you won't. And let's face it. You're rich as hell. Like, millionaire rich. It's probably hard to find beautiful girls who aren't just interested in money.”

“Almost impossible, honestly, especially when you don't have much else going for you.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Ask Belle, and she'd list off a hundred things you have. She's smitten, and I've never seen her this way. So you better cherish her and make her happy, because she's been my best friend since she was a shy little Australian fresh off the plane.” She leaned closer, and he instinctively leaned back, but she lowered her voice to a whisper. “If you hurt her, Mr. Gold, our friend Alice has already agreed to help me chop your dick off.” He winced slightly and nodded to show he understood. “Do you want your dick chopped off?”

“Now why would I want that, dearie?” His voice was sarcastic. “I just want a chance with her.”

“Then you go to that library and take her on a picnic at the beach. Want an umbrella and blanket? She has fair skin.” It was amazing how quickly she could go from threatening to dismember him to offering assistance. He supposed she was just a damn good friend, and he was happy Belle had that.

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

“Mhm!” She excitedly rushed off, and he sat down on the chair, looking down at his phone. Even if it was nearly eleven, he figured it wasn't a bad thing for her to know she was on his mind. It was a simple message, though he hoped it made her smile.

_How are the books? Any get loose?_

Miss Lucas came rushing out to him, handing him a massive beach umbrella. “I'll put the blanket in your car!” She rushed ahead of him, leaving him to carry a cane and umbrella. He put the umbrella in the trunk, turning to look at Miss Lucas. 

“There's just one more thing...”

“Yes?”

“Is there anyone else she's interested in right now? Anyone I need to worry about?”

“Oh god, no. I mean... Not in the way you're talking about. She only likes you, just... The obvious one.”

“Yeah... I'm aware of that. I can handle it. Thank you Miss Lucas. I'm sure you'll hear all about it tonight.” She smirked and nodded, and he felt much better as he got into his car. It seemed like for whatever reason her other friends approved of him. Perhaps they had faith he'd treat her right. And he would.

He opened his shop for awhile, texting Belle a few more times. She was in a good mood, which was perfect. Around half past noon, he made his way over to the library before she left for lunch. After sitting in his car like a socially awkward teenager, he got out, slowly walking inside. She was sitting at the desk with her nose in a book, reading intently, smiling slightly. He sucked in a sharp breath. Her hair was pulled to one side and curled perfectly, her lips painted pink. Her top was slightly low cut, more than usual, and the red blooded male in him looked forward to seeing the lower half. 

“Good afternoon.” He spoke just loudly enough for her to hear, hoping he didn't startle her. It was a useless hope because she jumped, her hand clutching her chest. She smiled as she saw him, jumping up from her chair. She sauntered over to him, immediately hugging him tightly.

“Hello Michael. What brings you here?” He hugged her back, his face in her soft and fragrant hair. Her hand gently stroked his own greying locks before she pulled back, her hands on his chest.

“I came to ask if you'd like to have lunch with me. Somewhere other than Granny's.” He did his best to sound confident, offering her a crooked smile. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and he prayed she couldn't feel it.

“Yes! I would love to!” She smiled brightly, nodding as if to reaffirm her agreement, and he felt his anxiety melt away. 

“I have everything packed for us. If you'll come with me.” He offered her his hand and she took it, following him eagerly. Once the car was in sight she walked faster, ending up dragging him along with her, but he did his best to keep up. He quickly opened the car door for her, going over to his own side and getting in carefully. She'd never been in his car before, and she was running her hands over the seats and dash as if it was the nicest vehicle she'd ever seen. Despite all his money, his Cadillac was an older model despite being in mint condition. He was a classics kind of man.

“I love your car. The seats are so comfortable.” She leaned back, her legs stretching out in front of her. “And it's roomy!”

His mind was flooded with thoughts of what he could do to her in a car that she found both comfortable and roomy. “Oh yes?” He inwardly winced. His voice sounded too low to be anything other than suggestive. She didn't seem to care.

“Where are we going? That little Italian place? Or the fish and chips shop?”

“None of the above.” He winked at her and she hummed thoughtfully as he started the engine, putting it in drive and pulling away from the curb. She looked around curiously as he drove, clearly trying to figure out where they were going. She seemed to trust him, however, and she didn't once protest. He pulled up at the pier, and she gasped, turning to him.

“The beach? You're taking me to the beach?” She smiled wide as he nodded, and she jumped out before he could get her door for her. He went into the back, swallowing hard as he tried to get everything. He put the blanket on top of the basket and tucked the umbrella under his arm, closing the door with his arse. She looked over, gasping, holding her heels in her hand and placing them on her seat before rushing to him. “I can help, don't be so stubborn.” She pulled the umbrella from him, and he was thankful as he hadn't calculated how difficult it would be to use a cane in the sand.

“Why don't you go ahead and pick where you want our spot to be?” She nodded, thankfully oblivious to the struggle, and walked ahead of him. In time, she'd see all the things his disability made difficult, and it made him miserable to think of. His cane sunk into the sand with every step, his expensive shoes filling with sand and making it even harder. The sun was boiling him in his all black three piece suit. But Belle was smiling as she looked out at the water, so it was worth the discomfort. He dropped his cane as he got close to her, and together they fanned out the blanket. He took his shoes off, placing them on two corners, his cane on the other.

“Michael, you're going to melt in that, at least take the jacket off.” He nodded sheepishly and took it off, putting it on the blanket. He opened the umbrella and planted it in the ground, giving them some shade. She sat down cross legged, and he swallowed hard. Getting on the ground was difficult, and there wasn't anything to hold onto for leverage. She looked up at him, and offered him her hand and his cane wordlessly. He took both, planting the cane and holding her tightly as he lowered himself down. He sat down beside her, trying not to think about getting up. “This is perfect. Best date ever.” She sounded sincere, and he couldn’t contain his smile.

“You haven't even seen the food.” He picked the basket up, opening it and letting her peer in. She gasped, going right for the chips. 

“You remembered my favorite even though you refuse to eat them...”

“Because how can vinegar taste good on a chip?” She glared as she opened the bag, and he leaned away as she pushed one towards him.

“Just try it!”

“It's unnatural, Belle.”

“Michael!” She giggled, and somehow he had ended up holding himself up with his elbows, his legs stretched out. He groaned in surprise as she straddled him, smirking.

“Now this is absolutely unfair.” She smiled sweetly, one hand planted on his chest. She held the chip to his mouth and he opened it, eating it. He groaned slightly. 

“What? They're not that bad!”

“I know. The noise was because you were right. Those are pretty damn good.” She smiled triumphantly, leaning down to kiss him softly, and he tried to hide his disappointment when she got up and sat normally. Temptress. He sat up beside her, handing her the sandwich and iced tea. 

“You really planned this well. These are all things I love. You really pay attention to that stuff.” She was beaming at him, and he shifted one of his arms so it was behind her, the hand on the blanket.

“You're important to me, Belle. I like to know things, even if they may seem like insignificant details to you.” 

“You put mayonnaise on both pieces of bread. And there's extra cheese, and it's Swiss cheese...That's how I order them at lunch...” She sighed contently, leaning on his arm. “No guy has ever paid attention like this. To just the little things. You're amazing.” 

“Oh, that reminds me.” He fished out the small bag of pickles, and she lifted her bread so he could put them on, and he added them to his own. “I didn't put them on because I didn't want them to get soggy.”

“I thought dates like this were a myth. I didn't think I would ever meet a man who would just... Make a lunch and surprise me with a picnic. This is perfect. And it's just us here.”

“I want you to feel special. I don't want you to be discouraged with men because of your past experiences. I won't say I'm not like other guys because not all guys are assholes, I'm not special or the best around. I'm just not looking to play games. I don't do that, not with relationships. I'm very serious in my feelings for you. They're real, and I'm much too old to waste any time with someone I don't want all of.” She was listening intently, her hand on his leg as she looked up at him. He was beginning to worry he might have scared her with talk of how serious he was about her, but then she smiled and gave him a deep kiss.

“I'm only twenty-two. I know you probably think that's young and that I might not want what you do... But I don't have interest in... Well, a life like Ruby's. That's not for me. I've been into you for so long... I didn't think you wanted me.“ He shook his head, nearly choking on his sandwich in shock.

“You thought I didn't want you? I've been interested in you for a long time too, probably since before we even spoke. I'm just... I was too much of a coward to ask you out.” That had always been his problem, and because of it, he hadn’t taken the chance with her sooner.

“What changed?”

It was a good question, and he wasn't entirely sure himself. But part of him believed it was the mysterious woman who sent the pictures that had changed him. It had given him confidence that if that woman could be interested, than maybe someone like Belle who was so out of his league could be too. He wasn't sure of how to tell Belle. He wasn't sure if he could. If all went well, he was going to swallow how ridiculous it sounded and ask her to be his girlfriend. Which would make the photos of the woman cheating. He had never cheated before in his life, and the thought of it made him sick. He would put the flag up if Belle said yes.

“Just a surge of confidence, I suppose. And the fact that you'd been single for so long. I figured you didn't have anything recent to compare me to, so I wouldn't seem that lackluster.” She rolled her eyes, kissing him on the jaw.

“I've never met someone like you. You carry yourself with so much confidence and everyone respect and fears you... Yet you're so... Self-deprecating with me.”

“I promise you, it's not an act. I just... I have a lot of luck with business, with getting respect in that area. I'm sure of myself with that. But I don't have a lot of luck with romance. I'm forty and divorced. I didn't think you'd be interested in that.”

“I'm twenty-two and recently out of an abusive relationship. I didn't think anyone would be interested in that.” His head snapped to look at her, and he took her hand as he heard the quiver in her voice.

“I can assure you, any man worth a second glance wouldn't give a damn. I don't care. All knowing that does is make me want to ensure you're safe and comfortable. I would never think any less of you, it's completely different. None of it is your fault. I may not understand the physical aspect of it, but in the last few years, my ex-wife was quite verbally abusive. I know how it can make you feel.”

“T-the hitting wasn't the worst part. The w-words hurt more.” She sniffles slightly, and he pulled her close, swallowing hard. It wasn't his intention to upset her on their date, and he felt awful. 

“I'm so sorry Belle. Is your face alright...?” He could barely see it, but that just made him feel worse. It just showed she was good at using makeup to conceal it.

“It doesn't hurt that much. You s-saved me. I'm so lucky, you're so sweet and understanding. You've never once made me feel small.”

“I only want to make you feel happy.” 

“You're doing it perfectly.” She smiled at him, pushing on his chest, and he let her guide him so he was laying on his back. She picked up the bowl of fruit, laying down with him and setting the fruit on her stomach. He shifted to face her, and she guided a strawberry slice into his mouth. Food tasted so much better when she was feeding him it he decided. They laid together, feeding one another, until the fruit was gone. Then she shifted so she was laying on his chest. “Once it's warm enough, will you come back here with me? To we can have another picnic and swim.”

“Swim...? Belle, I... I don't really have a beach body if you haven't noticed.” He glanced down to his soft stomach, and then down to his hidden but gnarled leg. Quitting smoking had been horrible for his physique.

“What? Michael, you're perfect.”

“I'm not toned or muscular, and I can't run...”

“Muscular? Look... I'm attracted to you. The way it works for me, is I have to like a personality before I have any attraction to someone. You're really the only guy I've ever been attracted to in a more... Intimate way. I've always thought you were handsome. But then I got to know you, and now I think you're gorgeous, and so sexy...” His eyes snapped open as he looked over at her. She had to have been joking, even in when he was in the best shape of his life, no one would have called him sexy. “What I'm saying is, it's you. It doesn't matter what you look like, I'm attracted to Michael Gold. However, I will admit... I think you look perfect. I'm not interested in muscles, you're so perfect to cuddle with. I'm not the thinnest or prettiest girl around either...”

“What? Thin isn't what's pretty Belle... Oh.”

“See!” She giggled, slapping his chest as he smiled sheepishly. 

“I think your body is perfect as well. I suppose I don't have a good image of myself but it's difficult for me to understand why you wouldn't.”

“He used to call me fat. The one time I was ever in anything less than a full outfit was at a pool, I had a bikini on. He... He just kept pointing out the... it's embarrassing to say... he just kept pointing out that my stomach has a few rolls when I sit, or that there are stretch marks in some places... Or that other girls had bigger breasts.” He sighed slightly, shaking his head, lifting up to look down at her.

“Anything he ever said to you is utter bullshit. You're normal, you're not a Victoria's Secret model. You're a real woman without photoshop or without a strict diet. I think you look absolutely perfect. Obviously I've never seen you in a bikini, but I'm sure you look perfect. Maybe you'll let me see?” His eyebrows lifted suggestively, and she giggled, looking around at the desolate beach before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“You could see a little sneak peek right now.” His jaw dropped, and he watched as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Do you want that?”

“God, yes, please...” She giggled at his surely stupid expression, shifting herself so she was facing him. She pulled her blouse off, revealing a lacy black bra and he groaned. Her body looked familiar, like something straight out of his dreams. “Beautiful.” His mouth was hanging open, and she guided his hands to her perky breasts. “C-can I take it off?”

“Yes! But I get to take something off you too.”

“Okay... Did you want to go someplace more private...?” He watched as she reached up and angled the umbrella, pulling it over more. It created an excellent shield while still giving them shade. And truthfully, he only cared what she thought about his body. He didn't care if Archie Hopper was walking his dog and saw him shirtless, and it might have been amusing to watch the mayor turn green.

“No, this is perfect. As long as you're comfortable with it.” He nodded, and she pushed his vest off, his tie following. He went for her bra, fumbling with the clasp a moment, embarrassment creeping in, but he got it off after a second. He had never seen a more perfect set of breasts, and he looked at her face a moment as his hands cupped them. They were perfectly sized, just more than a handful, and she moaned, her nipples hard against his hand. 

“My God... You're so perfect. Tell me when to stop.” She nodded, and he slowly leaned forward, his lips wrapping around her nipple. She gasped in surprised pleasure, and he realized it was genuinely new, she'd never been touched this way. Some deep, animalistic recess of his mind was screaming how hot that was. His member was hard and straining his pants, and he winced. It had slipped past his boxers, the zipper of his pants uncomfortable, so he discreetly shifted himself to the left. Belle was whimpering as he sucked her breast, and he watched her face as he slid a hand along her leg. Her thin tights kept him from touching skin and he groaned in frustration. He had to feel her skin, so he eased them down, touching her thighs.

“That feels so good... You can keep going, I trust you.” Her voice was sweet and breathless, and he was in awe of how reactive her body was. He slowly slid a hand into her lacy panties, finding she was shaved bare, and watched her face. She nodded again, looking a tad impatient, so he smirked, beginning to trail his finger along her surprisingly wet slit. He slowly eased a finger into her, letting out a strangled noise. She was so tight and so warm, and he couldn't imagine how she'd feel wrapped around his cock. She gasped softly, spreading her legs more. “It feels so different when you touch me. Than when I touch myself.”

“T-touch yourself? Oh god.” He groaned at the image, hard on her thigh, and she stretched a hand down, curiously palming him through his pants. 

“Can I touch you t-”

“Yes! You can!” He panted slightly from the touch, and she unbuckled his belt with a giggle. He was thankful that she did as he did and slipped a hand down his pants and into his boxers. She gasped loudly, and started to giggle again, and he felt a surge of insecurity and embarrassment. He had always been confident in his size, but perhaps she'd expected more. “I'm sorry, I...”

“Save that for the future. I didn't think you'd be this big.” His eyebrow raised, and she blushed, looking suddenly shy. “I... Well... Ruby said she believed you were. She claims to have some sort of... Penis radar.” She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled slightly. “She said you were big, but I... I didn't think you'd be that big.”

“Not too big, I hope...?”

“No. I mean, well, I obviously don't have much to compare you with except for stuff I've seen on the Internet. But some of those just look scary. But you feel perfect, I think. Not monstrous or anything, but still bigger than most. I think?” She laughed shyly, and he joined her. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, relieved that she approved. Of course, it had made the encounter slightly awkward, but he didn't mind. She was still learning despite being well into adulthood, and he certainly didn't mind being the one to teach her.

“Yes. Above average if we're going by, uh, statistics.”

“Oh god, I must sound horrible. I don't care at all, it's just funny that Ruby was right. She cares about that stuff, claims to scout them out at bars. I care much more about what's in here.” She laid her hand over his heart, and he smiled, kissing her softly. He groaned as she started to stroke him slowly, and he almost came then and there. Her hand could barely wrap around him completely and she didn't quite know how, but it was a thousand times better than when he touched himself at night. 

He pumped his finger slowly, his thumb rubbing her clit in slow circles that made her whimper, squeezing his cock in response. He picked his pace up, and she followed suit, mimicking the speed. He had never done anything risqué in public this way, and the fact that anyone could walk by made it so much hotter. It almost made him want to hurry to his climax, but her's was more important so he held off.

“Michael... I'm gonna cum...” She was moaning and shifting her hips, and she cried out as he pressed her clit more firmly. He nodded, his other hand pushing her breast up so he could suck the nipple more. She cried out his name as her walls clenched around him, one leg wrapping around his own as she held him tightly, making him grunt in half pleasure half pain. He was right on the edge, but it seemed luck wasn't on his side. He heard voices, and he froze, pulling his soaked hand free.

“Someone is coming.”

“Yes, me... And you in a second, come back...”

“No, no, I mean people.” Her eyes shot open and she pulled her hand free, hurriedly putting her bra on, he fixed her tights, groaning in discomfort as he tried to zip his pants. He was right on the edge, the breeze could blow and he'd cum, but he focused on getting her covered. He helped her into her shirt and she buttoned it. He tossed his jacket over his erection, hiding it decently enough. They laid back down, his arm around her, and about ten seconds passed before two figures loomed into view. He looked up as if surprised, and he inwardly groaned as he saw Mr. And Mrs. Nolan smiling goofily at them. Mary Margaret was a year or two older than Belle, and she smiled excitedly at the girl.

“You finally went out with him!” David was staring in shock, and he mouthed yet another 'nice' to him, giving him a discreet thumbs up.

“Does every woman in town know you wanted to date me?” He groaned, turning to look at Belle, who was blushing. The wonder duo seemed oblivious to what they'd been doing, and his erection was rapidly deflating.

“Mary Margaret only knew because of you!” Belle gently poked his chest as she spoke, smirking at him.

“You looked at her like David looked at me before we went out. I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened, and I'm so happy for you two!” Gold shook his head slightly, but Belle was smiling brightly. Of course, the one who had finished would be happy. He wasn't bitter however. It wasn't her fault.

“I'm happy for you, Gold. But Belle is a nice girl, you better treat her right.” David gave him what was supposed to be a hard look, but he only rolled his eyes.

“Oh, rest assured Mr. Nolan. I treat her very well.” 

Belle and Mary Margaret chatted long enough for him to almost entirely lose his arousal. The schoolteacher was about as interesting as drying paint or growing grass, and all she talked about was bringing the children into the library soon. Eventually they left, and Belle turned to him apologetically.

“I feel so bad. You didn't even finish.” She looked upset, and he looked at his watch.

“And you're late for work. Let's get going.”

“Michael, I can be late for it, I-” she looked nervous, as if he'd be angry, so he cut her off with a kiss and tight hug.

“Sweetheart. My original plan was to make you feel good. I wasn't doing that to get off myself, and I appreciate it, but there will be plenty of time to enjoy each other's bodies in the future. I enjoyed our date immensely, and I would have if all we did was talk. Let me get you to work, and we can plan another date?” 

“I would like that.” She smiled, standing up, and he waved his hand as she went to gather things. He'd call Dove to clean up. With difficulty and her help he got up, and he drove her back to the library. She leaned over and kissed him as he parked, and he decided to hold off on his important question. He wanted to ask her at a more appropriate time, rather than when she was rushing off to work. 

“Can I call you tonight?”

“Please do. Unless I break and call you first.” She smiled sweetly, kissing him again. “Thank you for today.”

“We can discuss our next date tonight, if you'd like.” She nodded and went to leave, but he grabbed her arm gently, and she turned. She moaned in surprise as he gave her a much deeper kiss, and she nearly climbed into his lap, biting his lip as she kissed back. They pulled back breathlessly, smiling and leaning foreheads together. “See you later.”

“Yes... See you.” She was looking at him in a way no other had before. Like she was completely enamored with him. She got out on wobbly legs, waving and smiling before rushing inside. He leaned back in his seat, smiling after her before driving home for the day. 

There was a picture waiting for him, and he lost himself in the safety the anonymity brought him. There was no face again, and this one was focused mostly on her ass and legs. He groaned to himself, imagining Belle spread out on his bed in a similar way. He stroked himself hard and fast, already pent up from the torturous touches earlier, and he came with a grunt of 'Belle' and a few expletives. He was still extremely horny even after, but his frustrating male body didn't give him much he could do with it. He put the picture with the others, sitting down to wait for his pizza to be delivered. And more importantly, wait for an appropriate time to call Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta gamezees!


	6. Late Night Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter, some smut is coming your way! I'm sorry it's late but I've been working a lot and having some writer's block. I hope it's passed now, Let me know what ya think and kudos it if you liked it!

He was fairly certain he was acting more like a sixteen year old than he had when he was actually one. He had masturbated to a photograph and now he was sitting upright on his bed, his phone on his leg as he awaited Belle's phone call, still fully clothed. It was more he was awaiting for her to call him or for himself to get the courage to do it. It was utterly pathetic. He had brought the girl to climax on a public beach but for all he knew, she felt used. He had to call.

He swallowed hard and hit her contact, tapping his finger delicately over the call button and waiting. She answered on the first ring, and he took a deep breath to compose himself.

“Belle, how are you?”

“The real question is how are you?” Her voice sounded seductive, and his eyes widened slightly. It had been a few hours since he had last came, so his member was stirring just from the tone alone. “You poor thing, the way you were when I last saw you. I wish I had had time to finish you.”

“It's n-no matter, Belle, truly. It isn't your fault, and I survived.” His suit pants were growing impossibly tight, and he resisted the urge to touch himself. He wouldn't without her permission or urging, he had to at least maintain some shred of decency.

“Michael... Where are you? In bed? I'm in bed. What are you wearing?” 

Holy fucking shit. This was happening. Belle French was having phone sex with him, which was something he had never done. He was fairly certain she hadn't either due to her inexperience in things of the sexual nature. It would be a learning experience, and she could read a cookbook and he'd be able to cum from her voice.

“I'm s-still dressed. I'm in just my button down and dress pants. Ah.... What are you wearing?” He hoped he didn't sound too awkward or breathless. This was quite shocking, so he was utterly unprepared. 

“Oh, not much.” She giggled into his ear and he groaned, his head falling back on the headboard. “I have black lace panties on, and they have a little red bow in the front. The bra matches them, and I have red high heels on too.” 

“You sound so sexy, Belle.”

“Do you want to see?” His mouth fell open, and he tried not to choke on his air intake at the sheer thought of her sending him something racy. He was a magnet for nude photos lately, it seemed. He slowly wet his lips, his tongue running across them slowly before he nodded.

He spoke once he remembered she could not see him. “God, yes. Please show me...”

He heard a giggle, and his phone received a new message at the top, and he nearly dropped it as he switched to their conversation. His cock twitched in his pants as he took in the sight of her. It was as cute as it was sexy. She was holding the camera up high above her as she kneeled. Her perfect breasts were noticeable, and she had kept her face in, her lip trapped between her teeth as she looked into the camera seductively. Despite how sexy she was there was just a hint of awkward uncertainty in her pose, and he found it incredibly endearing.

“You're so beautiful...” He stared at the picture more, resisting the urge to take his member out and pump. He wanted her to tell him it was alright first.

“But... am I sexy...?” She was nervous, he realized, and it made him feel a lot better. They were both unsure in this situation, and he smiled to himself. “You've told me I'm beautiful before. But do you... do you find me sexually attractive?”

“Oh god, yes, yes! I've never wanted anyone more than I want you, you're so fucking sexy, Belle.” He couldn't help the vulgarity that slipped out of his mouth. He could barely think straight, let alone like a gentleman. This girl raised a side of him he'd long since caged. Deep inside him there was an animal struggling to get out, and she was freeing him from bars. He wanted her so badly.

“Really? You mean that? There hasn't been a pornstar or ex-girlfriend you wanted that much? Or perhaps someone in town?”

“No. Never as much as you. You're sexier than anything I've ever laid my eyes on.” He didn't even hesitate, and he was entirely sincere. The only woman he'd ever felt comparable attraction to was a woman whose face he did not know. For all he knew, her face could be unappealing to him. But he wanted every inch of Belle, and he could search the world and never find someone as alluring.

“I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you either, Michael.” Her voice was sultry, and he heard her shift around, and after a moment he was looking at a picture of Belle French with her hand inside her panties. He then heard her moan, and he whimpered slightly. “Touch yourself with me.”

“Y-yes.” He shifted the phone and put it on speaker as he fumbled for his pants, making sure she could hear the zip as he opened them. He pulled his throbbing and engorged cock out, wrapping a hand around the thick shaft. He began to stroke himself firmly, the skin moving slowly, and his thumb gently spread the precum over his sensitive tip. “I'm touching myself, Belle.”

“How does it feel, Mr. Gold?” She moaned it out, and he swallowed hard.

“Not as good as when you did it, but still wonderful. But it pales to what I imagine being inside you would be like.” He heard her gasp before she moaned again.

“Tell me what you'd do to me.” 

“I would take you out and spoil you. Dinner, dancing, romance and candles. Then I would take you home and lay you out on my bed and pull all your clothes off.” He heard her moaning and shifting as she pleasured herself. “Then, I would spread your legs apart and bury my face until you were moaning and writhing. I would eat your little pussy out until you forgot any words other than my name and 'more.' I would eat you out and make you cum again and again, until you could barely move. But I would make sure you wanted more.”

“Michael... Please don't stop... I'm so wet right now, I'm aching for you. Your voice is so good, that accent...” Her voice was tight and full of pleasure he'd never heard before. Raw, passionate, and desperate. He stroked his cock faster, groaning a moment as his other hand cupped his balls.

“After I ate your pussy into oblivion and made sure you were soaking my sheets from how wet you were, I would take my own clothes off. I would be so fucking hard for you, Belle. But I would be so careful. I wouldn't fuck you, not then. I would make love to you so well you wouldn't even think of going for another man. I would slowly push my cock into you, and I know you're so tight, I've felt it. You'd fit me like a warm and tight glove. I would treat you like the treasure you are, you'd feel like the only girl in the world. And in my world, you are.” She was moaning and whimpering now, her breath heavy and full of lust. 

“Oh my god. You're so sexy, Michael, your accent... I've never heard anything this hot, I could cum just from you talking. Are you stroking your c-cock?”

“Yes. I am. I have those sexy little pictures you texted me open, and I'm stroking myself as I look at you. I miss your hand so much, but just the image of you with your hand in those cute little panties is a sin.”

“H-how would you f-fuck me? After the first time we had sex, after you took my virginity and made me yours?”

“How would I fuck you? Like an _animal. _There are very few things I wouldn't want to do to you. And I would fuck you anywhere I could. No place would be off limits. I'd drag you into the bathroom when we're on lunch and pound you in a stall. I would pull my car over to the side of the road, pull you into my lap, and sheath my cock inside your pussy until you were moaning and cumming around me. I would push you up against a shelf in the back of the library and pump you amongst the books. You'd be so satisfied, Belle, I would always make sure you came first. Don't let my age fool you, dearest, you'd never be disappointed.” His voice was thick now, and he wasn't sure she could even hear him from how his accent had deepened. He sounded as if he was fresh off the boat.__

__“M-Michael... I'm so, so close... Keep telling me, then I'll send you something to show what you did to me. Tell me a kinky fantasy, something you're afraid to say out loud.” Her own accent was thick, and it sounded remarkably sexy. He'd always found Australian accents hot, and her's was like sex._ _

__“Afraid to say...? I... I want... I want to dominate you, Belle. I want you to let me tie you to the bed and pin you beneath my body as I ram into you. I want you to wear nothing but heels and tell me to do anything I want. I want to fuck that impressive brain out, and I want it badly. I want to use my cane and spank your ass when you've been naughty, and I want to fuck you there too.”_ _

__“Oh god... Michael...”_ _

__“Now you tell me what you what. One thing you want.”_ _

__“I want to you to take me back to the beach. Only this time, I want to lay beneath you while you fuck me into the sand. I want... I want to know what your cock tastes like, and I want you to teach me how to suck it. I want you to cum in my mouth.” He was desperately close now, and he grabbed a tissue, his eyes closing a moment so he could imagine everything they were talking about._ _

__“Cum for me, sweetheart. I want to hear you moan my name as you cum.”_ _

__There was silence a moment before he heard a loud moan, and she nearly sobbed and certainly moaned his name. The fact that she was in an apartment and had neighbors made the slightly voyeuristic part of him even hotter than he was as a whole. He growled her name out, gasping as he came into the thin tissue, his whole body shuddering in pleasure. He sank back on the bed. And he heard her moan again._ _

__“Michael... You sound so sexy when orgasm.” He could hear a bit of shyness in her voice and he smiled. He wished he had been by her side. He hadn't really been able to enjoy her in her post-orgasm bliss stage before they were interrupted. He imagined she was adorable, and he yearned to feel her cling to him like a magnet._ _

__“I've never heard anything sexier than your own moans, sweetheart.” He was picturing the blush she would wear, and his fast heart rate wasn't solely from the lust he felt anymore. She was hotter than hell, yes, but she was also sweeter than pie. And he wanted more than a piece, he wanted the whole damn thing. He didn't want to be a lunch date, he didn't want to be someone she tongue kissed on the beach, and he didn't want to be the one she called in the evening before bed. He didn't want morning texts. He didn't want to lose his mind over photographs from a stranger, and he didn't want be the pervert who wanked over them._ _

__He wanted to be Belle's. It was simple. He wanted to be her best friend, her boyfriend, her rock, and the first one she saw when she woke, and the last one she saw when she slept. He wanted to be the one to make her smile, and he wanted to pound her into ecstasy every night. He was a greedy and selfish man, and he couldn't fight the feelings for her anymore. He'd consciously been interested in her for around a year, but really, he was fairly certain it had always been there. He recalled seeing her years ago, when she was nineteen or so, and his heart had rose up into his throat. The realization hit him hard now, years later. It was always her. He'd only recently begun doing anything about it, and perhaps it was just from the confidence his admirer gave him._ _

__“...Michael...? Are you still there? You've been quiet...”_ _

__“Oh, yes! I'm sorry, I'm still here. I'm old Belle, I need a few moments to collect myself.” She giggled, and he leaned back, smiling. Her laugh was heart warming._ _

__“You're not old, stop it. Hey... What are you wearing now?” He couldn't help but laugh, and she giggled harder._ _

__“I, ah, still the same....”_ _

__“Do you own anything other than suits?”_ _

__“Of course! I have other articles of clothing. I have sweaters, a few stray pairs of jeans, other casual things.”_ _

__“Okay, then I want to make a deal. You like those, huh, that's kind of your thing?”_ _

__“Yes. What deal so you wish to make?” It was an incredibly unfair partnership, and the first one he'd ever been apart of where he didn't have the business advantage. He'd give her the whole damn town for a kiss._ _

__“Next time we go on a date, you have to wear something other than a suit.”_ _

__“And what do I get out of it?” He was only teasing, of course, it was a fairly simple request._ _

__“A date with me, of course,” she spoke playfully, and he smiled, nodding before realizing yet again she couldn't see. He absolutely hated talking on the phone. She was the only one he'd ever tolerated it for._ _

__“Ah, the ultimate prize. We have a deal. I will wear something less business oriented and you will accompany me out again. Where do you want me to take you?”_ _

__“How about I let you pick? You did amazing today, I trust you. Though I will say... I like being alone. I like being able to talk and kiss you without everyone gaping at us.” He sat back thoughtfully, already formulating the ideal date in his head. “I ah... I...”_ _

__“What is it?” She sounded suddenly nervous, and he sat up curiously, swallowing a lump in his throat._ _

__“I just... I don't want to give you the wrong idea. What we're doing now, I'm comfortable with, and what we did on the beach I'm comfortable with. I'm just... I don't want you to expect something. I'm... I'm not ready to sleep together yet. I-I hope you'll understand, I-”_ _

__“Belle. I don't want to give you the wrong idea either, and I hope I haven't. I am very much sexually attracted to you, however I'm in no way expecting anything from you. I wouldn't pressure you, we can wait a week, or we can wait a year. It's not important to me when we have sex, I am interested in far more than that. I'm too old for that kind of relationship. One that's just based on sex. You owe me nothing, don't let any nonsense tell you otherwise.” She sighed in what sounded like relief. He felt guilty, and he sincerely hoped he hadn't acted in a way that was offensive._ _

__“Thank you... I know this is one of those stereotypical things to say but you're really not like any other guy I've seen before.”_ _

__“And you're like no one I've ever met. Perhaps I should have set my sights on Australian girls sooner.” She snorted, and he smirked, sitting up a bit and unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled his pants off completely, climbing under the sheets. He heard her shifting as well, and he got more comfortable, fighting off a yawn._ _

__“You sure you can handle an Aussie? We're tough.”_ _

__“Scotsmen are tougher than American men. I can assure you, my hands are very capable. I may not be familiar with wrangling kangaroos, however-”_ _

__“Oh my god! Shut up! That's such a stereotype!”_ _

__“-however I can handle a koala like you.”_ _

__“Okay, this is offensive.” She was laughing so hard he could barely understand her, and he laughed along with her. “Those are stereotypical animals.”_ _

__“Are you going to tell me you've never seen a kangaroo?”_ _

__“...well, obviously I have seen several. In some areas, wild kangaroos are basically like wild deer. But they're dangerous! They'd kick your kilt off!”_ _

__“Excuse me, now you're the one stereotyping me! I've never worn a kilt! And I've _never _played bagpipes before you bring that up. Tell me, make anything on the 'barbie' lately?”___ _

____“Yeah, some haggis!”_ _ _ _

____“Jesus Christ woman, you don't barbeque haggis, you boil it. Stay out of my kitchen and stick to your barbie.” They were both just laughing, and he was certain he'd never laughed so hard and genuinely in his entire life. It felt so right to just let his guard down with her._ _ _ _

____“I live in an apartment building, Michael, and you're my landlord, so you should know that's in the contract as forbidden due to being a fire hazard!”_ _ _ _

____“What? You actually read the rental agreement...?”_ _ _ _

____“Do you know me? I read everything. And your contracts are ridiculous, I never knew it was possible to literally cover everything.”_ _ _ _

____“I'm impressed, they're quite lengthy.” He heard her yawn, her voice squeaking slightly from it, and a small smile spread across his face. “And evidently this phone call is as well. I'm talking you to sleep.”_ _ _ _

____“No! No, it's not that. It was just such a wonderful day. And a wonderful night... And I love talking this way, but I just wish we were in the same bed, not different ones.” She sniffled slightly, and his eyebrows knit in concern. “I'm sorry, I'm just confused right now, because I want that but I'm still not ready...”_ _ _ _

____“Sweetheart.... we'll be there someday. We've got plenty of time, and I'm very serious about you. You don't have to worry about going faster than you're comfortable with. I'd rather wait, anyways.”_ _ _ _

____“That's a lie." She snorted, and he chuckled sheepishly._ _ _ _

____“No, it's a partial lie. There are two parts. Part one wants us to be at a certain emotional point. And part two is the more lustful part that just wants you, Belle. But you mean the world to both parts.”_ _ _ _

____“Thank you, Michael... You know just what to say.” She yawned again, and he heard her shift even more, and he smiled as he imagined her nuzzling into the pillow, phone clutched in her tiny hand. She sounded adorable, and he yearned to be by her side, but he was patient. All in due time._ _ _ _

____“Get some rest, my darling Belle. I'll plan a lovely date for you and I, what day is good for you?”_ _ _ _

____“Hmmm... Tomorrow night is girl's night, so not then. Every Sunday is usually girl's night, by the way.“_ _ _ _

____“Good to know. Monday then? I know it's not the most conventional night for a date, but I don't want to wait until Friday.”_ _ _ _

____“Monday is perfect. And you don't have to go crazy or anything. Today was perfect, it just proved you don't have to spend much for a date to be perfect.”_ _ _ _

____“I think I have an idea then. You enjoy girl's night, alright? Don't be too harsh when you talk about me.” She gasped loudly, and he arched an eyebrow curiously._ _ _ _

____“Harsh? You don't even know how jealous my friend's are. I've been talking about you for awhile now, you're very popular. They were all wary at first, but now they realize how sweet you are. Our group text was a mess after I got home and Ruby had told them what you did with the beach date.”_ _ _ _

____“...how many girls are there in this group...?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, just me, Ruby, and two others. I promise, I'm not telling dozens of people about you. I don't really have many friends. I'm friendly with everyone, but they're the only people I'm close enough to talk about personal things like that. Though I think the whole town kinda knows.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, no, I don't mind that. I'm just honored my personality is something to brag about.”_ _ _ _

____“All of you is. They've all agreed you're hot. Not that it matters to me, but just so you know. Don't be so hard on yourself.” He felt a surge of confidence, and smiled proudly. He knew he wasn't remarkable looking, so his interest was caught._ _ _ _

____“If I might ask... what do they find attractive...?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, we've all agreed your hair is a gift to the world. And the suits. And we've mentioned the cane, and your smirk has been deemed sexy, if not panty dropping. Oh, and obviously the accent, but I think anyone would say that.”_ _ _ _

____“I'm very flattered, Belle. Thank you. But know this, only your opinion matters to me when it comes to my physical appearance.”_ _ _ _

____“Then I can't wait to see you dress casual for our date! Text me what I should wear once you decide what we we're doing, okay?”_ _ _ _

____“I've got it. Now, you sound very tired, you need to sleep. And I do too.” He yawned the moment he finished his sentence, and she yawned as well. He closed his eyes and laid back._ _ _ _

____“Night Michael...”_ _ _ _

____“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Neither one of them made any move to hang up, and he was content to just ignore it. He laid awake and just listened to the faint breathing her phone picked up, and then he heard a dainty snore, beginning to laugh. He laughed softly, rolling his eyes and gently tapping the hang up button. He rolled onto his side, shaking his head as he realized he wore the most moronic smile on his face. No matter what he did, it just wouldn't go away, and he drifted off, smiling like a lovesick fool._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta gamezees!


	7. Lover's Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is late. I was going to cut this into two chapters but since it's late I decided to leave it as one big one! I won't be updating anything for at least a week as I'm going on vacation but I hope to get some writing done while I am away. Hope you enjoy!

Everything needed to be perfect. Michael stood at the top of the cliff that overlooked the entire town, his friend Jefferson Madden behind him as he set up a round table with two chairs. He had left work early to prepare for his date with Belle, and he was more nervous than he'd ever been before. He wanted her to like it, and he had unintentionally set the bar high for himself with the date on the beach. She now expected a lot from him, and while he had the drive to give her it, he wasn't sure he could be enough for her.

The view was spectacular. The whole town was in sight, and at night it would look beautiful with all the lights. It was more private than the beach had been, and they would be entirely alone. He hoped she didn't grow frightened when he drove them out into the woods. He didn't want her to fear him, but he could understand if her past made it difficult to trust men. He has been trying hard to prove he wasn't trying to hurt or control her. She deserved nothing but happiness and security.

“Mike?” It took him a moment to realize he was being spoke to, but he turned to face him, nodding slightly, to show he was listening. “So I checked the times like you asked, and sunset is at around 7:29 tonight.” 

“I would like you to have our meals here by 6:55, I'll bring Belle here by 7:00, which gives us enough time to eat, and then be able to dedicate full attention to the sunset.” And one another, he silently added. He wasn't about to get mushy and emotional with the man, even if he was his only friend. It was already pushing it to enlist him in this. The man could be so unpredictable, and really, Dove was more helpful. He'd have set it all up himself, but he had a difficult enough time going up sets of stairs, let alone carrying tables and chairs.

“Got it.” He pushed the chairs in more neatly, and Michael inwardly groaned as he took in the man's expression. He was thinking, which was almost always a bad sign. “You really like this girl, huh?” Michael sighed, walking over to take a seat, his leg stiff from standing. He really didn't want to have this conversation. It was bad enough he had spilled his heart out to Belle's best friend. Soon, the whole town would know, that is if they didn't already.

“Well, I don't imagine I would go through all this trouble for a girl I didn't really like.” Jefferson walked over and sat down with him, smirking.

“I don't blame you. She's so hot.” 

“Shut the hell up. She's more than that. It takes more than a pretty face to wow me.”

“Yeah, a nice ass...”

“I said shut the hell up, unless you want to go over the edge of the cliff.” He turned to look at him sharply, his eyes taking in a smug smile. He knew Jefferson was only trying to irritate him, and he was good at it.

“Hot everything really. So out of your league.” He chuckles, his eyes glinting, and he was amazed that this man had made it to thirty without being murdered. By him.

“Stop calling her hot. She's not a temperature.”

“Hypocrite, you've called her hot!”

“Yes, but it isn't the only word I use to describe her. To acknowledge only her sexual attractiveness is an insult, a crime. She's... everything you could want in a woman. Beautiful, yes, but also intelligent, funny, calming, caring, sincere, kind. The list goes on.”

“Is she wife material?” He turned to look at the pain in the arse, tilting his head.

“Wife material?”

“You know, the kind of girl you want to marry. Not the type you screw for awhile or date a few months.”

“Oh. Well, if you need a term for it, she would certainly be considered that to me.”

“What's something you don't like about her? You gotta say it now before you get in too deep. Really think about it.” He sighed, hanging his head back. But he supposed it was a fair question, but one that was impossible to answer. There wasn't anything he didn't like. She wasn't perfect, she was damaged, emotional, and she was clumsy as hell. Belle French wasn't perfect by anyone's standards once they got to know her, but that's what made her perfect in his eyes. He loved the little flaws. The fact that she woke him up before his alarm with her too early texts, the way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way she rambled when she spoke, and thought too fast and too much. The traces of lipstick left behind, and the fact that his suits always had long brown pieces of hair on them now. Belle and her flaws were perfect to him.

“I don't like that she's had a life that made her have such a hard time seeing herself the way I see her. But that's not her fault, she has to learn to love herself like I love h-” he froze, swallowing the word immediately. It may have been true, but he wasn't ready for it. He was still far too nervous and insecure about what the future held. “Like I love how she is. She's a wonderful girl.”

Jefferson was wearing the smuggest smile he'd ever seen, a Cheshire Cat grin, and he wanted to slam his cane into his face. “You've got it bad, Mike. I'm so happy for you.” The sincerity in his voice made Michael's temper calm. Beyond his jokes and less than serious attitude, Jefferson was his only friend besides Belle.

“You really think she'll like this? She also wanted me to wear something other than a suit.” 

“Leather jacket. Wear that leather jacket you wore in Vegas.” He groaned out loud at the memories that surfaced. It had been miserable. All he had wanted to do was gamble and unwind, but Jefferson and their acquaintance Dr. Whale had wanted to chase any skirt they saw. The pair of them were drooling dogs, and they were left bitter when half the girls fawned over him. It was obvious why. He was the one with the fat wallet and solid gold cane handle. He must have looked insane, turning down tipsy twenty-one year olds left and right, but that lifestyle wasn't him. He was boring.

“I don't know... You think she'll like that?”

“Well, she wanted you to dress down. Obviously you're not gonna just wear a t-shirt and jeans. The leather jacket will make you look more sophisticated, you won't look so awkward. She'll be squirming in her seat while she looks at you. She'll jump you after the sun is down.” The idea did sound appealing. Would it be so bad for Belle to jump him? Hell no was the only suitable answer to that. This spot seemed like a stereotypical make out spot as was, it was bound to happen at some point in the night. He smiled in anticipation at the mere thought of kissing her soft, delicate, supple lips.

“I guess that's a good idea. Thank you. And I appreciate all the help with it, I couldn't have done this myself.” Jefferson smiled and shrugged, waving him off casually.

“Anything for a friend and his future wife.”

Michael gave him a dry look. “Very presumptuous. I don't know if she'd ever agree to that... Run along, Madden, I have a few finishing touches. Don't be late with the food.”

“I promise, I won't.” He nodded as he stood, bowing his head before turning and climbing into his car. Michael stared out at the town as he heard him drive off, leaning back and sighing. If only he still smoked, this would be the ideal time and place for it. He had come here many times in the past when he needed a respite or solitude. But he would rather share the view and peace with Belle than tarnish his lungs more.

He didn't stay long. He got into his car and set off for his house. There was another set of photographs waiting for him, but it seemed wrong to indulge before a special date, so he kept it in the envelope. He was beginning to feel more and more guilty about the anonymous photographs, but there was a part of him that didn't want to lose it. He was frightened that Belle would lose interest soon, or that he'd do something to anger or upset her beyond repair. He wasn't sure he could handle being totally alone, and that was his reasoning behind keeping them. Once he and Belle were on more clear terms and actually an exclusive couple, he would put the flag up. He would also tell her all about them, so she wouldn't lose trust in him should she ever find out. His priority was Belle, and his happiness. He just had a feeling that this was alright.

After taking a shower free of roaming hands, he shaved his face neatly, cursing loudly as he nicked his chin from his shaking hand. He hadn't nicked himself in years, it would be just his luck that it happened on the night of a date with the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He sighed as he put a small bandage over it for the time being. He limped over to his closet without the aid of his cane, searching through. The lower half of his outfit was easy as he had no choice. He had one pair of jeans, dark wash and fitted boot cut. They were a bit tighter than when he last wore them as he had packed on a few pounds. They clung more in the arse and crotch, but he didn't have time to shop, so he would just have to hope his cock would stay under control.

First he tried on a fitted v-neck, and the fitted aspect was a terrible idea. It highlighted his gut nicely, so he took it off quickly. Next he put on a looser one that only made him look like a man trying far too hard to look young. A plain polo made him look like a douche, and a hooded sweatshirt (which he wasn't even sure he'd willingly purchased) made him look like a slob. He put on a plain white button down and paired it with a maroon diagonal striped tie. He tied it in a more basic knot than the usual four-in-hand, keeping the collar slightly looser. She wanted relaxed and he was willing to shed some armor for her. He tucked his shirt in neatly, looking in the mirror. He didn't look as horrible as he expected, and the one good thing about the fit of the pants was they made his bulge even more impressive. Not that she cared or didn't know what was inside the trousers.

He picked his cane up, leaning into the mirror and pulling the band aid off. The blood had stopped so he wiped it away, and luckily it wasn't noticeable. A small victory. He looked at his hair with a sigh. He had spent so long changing that he hadn't been able to blow dry it a little, resulting in a slightly more wavy look. A bit of his usual product made it as smooth and soft as usual, and he inspected it more closely. The only word he could use to describe it was floofy, and he hoped it looked just as nice. He ruffled it, looking at the grey streaks in disdain. He was getting old. But not too old to woo a woman, he hoped.

He slowly made his way down the stairs, sending Belle a text message informing her he was on his way. She texted back almost instantly, and they agreed to meet in the lobby. He was thankful he could avoid the stairs, the jeans made it even more of a challenge. He drove to the apartment building, entering and awkwardly standing against the wall. He glanced at his phone to make it less awkward, and just as he pulled his phone out, it beeped with a text.

_Michael! Help. Red or black?_

He had no idea what she was talking about, but if it was clothing, she couldn't possibly go wrong with either.

_Both would look lovely but how about red. I'm here, whenever you're ready. No rush._

She read it but didn't reply, so he assumed she was indeed rushing. He leaned against the wall, some of the building's occupants giving him strange looks. Surely they knew why he was there. His phone beeped again, and he looked down, groaning. It was Jefferson.

_Hey buddy! Getting the food there! Have a good night and use protection ; ) ; )_

_Fairly certain you don't put a space between them, idiot._

He muted Jefferson and slid his phone away. Just as he tucked it into his back pocket, he heard the rapid click of heels as someone rushed over to him. He looked up and smiled as he saw Belle rushing across the lobby to him. He groaned then as he saw what she was wearing. She had listened, he realized, as he took in the strappy high heels she wore. Red as the blood that couldn't decide if it should rush to his cheeks or his groin.

“Michael!” Anyone who was present was staring as they often did, looking at them in awe and shock. She continued her half run, and he stepped closer, eyes drifting down just in time to watch her heel catch on the carpet. He quickly leaned forward as she squeaked and fell, catching her. He grunted slightly, but held her up, straightening them both up.

“Hey.” He looked at her and breathed it out with a chuckle, his arms remaining in place around her. She was blushing sheepishly, and she slid her hands up his arms, leaning in and kissing him. She tasted like honey, and he tried to remember they were in a public lobby. It was very difficult to contain his passion for her. It wasn't something that could be caged.

“Hey.” She noticeably bit her lip as she giggled quietly, pulling him closer to peck his lips again. She stepped back completely, and he shifted nervously as her eyes ran along him. “Oh my god.”

“What...?”

“You look amazing! You look so handsome and sexy.” She tugged the leather jacket gently, then stroked the tie. “It looks so perfect on you.” She crashed into his chest as she hugged him, her curls bouncing, and all he could do was lean into her touch. She was so happy, and they hadn't even gone to dinner yet. He hoped he didn't ruin her mood, he was desperate to see her this happy.

“Thank you. You requested more casual.” He then took in her outfit with more attention to detail. She had on a gold blouse that was sheer at the top and fitted, and it was tucked neatly into a tight little black skirt. She had a red blazer with sleeves to the elbow on over it, and it was the perfect mix of sexy and elegant. She always looked perfect. He knew it was never his place to tell her how to dress, but if she ever requested his input, he would tell her not to change a thing. “And you look absolutely beautiful, my dear. Truly radiant.” She smiled and took his hand, and together they walked out to his car. He pulled open the door for her, helping her in before getting in on his own side.

He started the engine and drove off, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift. He didn't fuss when she plugged her phone into his car and turned on her pop music. Music was one of the few things they disagreed on. They shared many other interests, and he could tolerate it if it meant being in her company. When some horrible song that seemed to be pop and rap came on, he tried not to cringe. The lyrics were obscene and about drugs and snakes, and he couldn't believe Belle enjoyed it. She suddenly started to laugh loudly.

“Oh god, listen to this next part, I only just realized.”

'This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles, 

Dick bigger than a tower I ain't talking bout' Eiffel' 

“Is this a serious song? That's my name.” He groaned, lifting his hand and pressing it to his forehead in disbelief. It was horrendous, and he couldn't believe this was an actual song. She was laughing even harder and all he could do was scowl about it. How was this music.

“It's half true. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?”

“Can't say I have, no. And I think this music is awful and unrealistic. If it was truly that large you'd be in grave danger.” Her laughter had turned silent, her face red, and she then snorted loudly, covering her face. He couldn't help but smile. She was so adorable, and she could compare him to as many crude pop songs as she wanted provided she was this happy every time. He laughed softly, and she looked sheepish, smiling shyly.

“Tell no one about that noise I just made. You'll be in huge trouble if you do.”

“Oh my, will you discipline me?” He smirked to himself at the idea. It sounded like a wonderful night in all honesty.

“Might have to.” She smirked, leaning over, her hand running along his thigh smoothly a moment. He let out a soft noise of a surprise, his grip on the wheel tightening. Luckily they were surrounded by forest. Beams of headlights came from around the corner and he recognized the car as Jefferson's, meaning everything was ready to go. He just had to get them there, but she seemed intent on making it harder. “Remember how I told you I want to take things slow?”

“Yes... And I assure you, that's fine, I-”

“What I said still stands. That's how I feel most right. But... What we did over the phone and on the beach was... Well... It was amazing. So stuff like that is okay. Just so you know. I'm just not ready for full on sex.”

“You don't have to explain anything to me. Just say what is and isn't okay and I'll never go beyond your boundaries. And if you ever change your mind, you can tell me. I'm not like that bastard you used to see. I don't think you owe me anything. The only things I require from you are honesty, trust, respect, and maybe a little patience... I'm fully aware I'm a difficult man to be around, that I'm not the most ideal man.” He couldn't keep his self-deprecating words in even as she glared, shaking her head, laying her hand over his on the wheel gently.

“You're the easiest person to be around. I've never felt more comfortable and secure. I need to meet the woman or women who made you feel like you're unworthy or hard to love, I have some very strong words for her. You are more than enough, you are worthy, and there's no one I would rather be with. And that's that.” The final word was punctuated with a firm tap on the bicep, and he smiled softly. “Also, where are we even going?”

“Into the woods.”

“The movie theater is the other way...”

“Huh?” He tilted his head slightly as he tried to unravel her meaning. He saw no correlation between woods and movies. “I mean the forest.”

“Oh god, are you going to kill me, Michael? I knew you were too good to be true!” Her tone was teasing, and he rolled his eyes.

“You've caught me. I am actually a real serial killer.” She giggled loudly and he shook his head, smiling in amusement as well. If this was her reaction to those words he would have to keep an eye on her. The girl would get herself killed.

“No one would ever believe me if I told them how funny you are.” She smiled brightly, looking around as he drove up the slope to the cliff. She truly trusted him, and he was slightly surprised. He had expected at least a bit of hesitation from her. This was different than the beach. They would be completely alone. He was touched that she was so relaxed and content even in what could have seemed dangerous. She knew he would never hurt her. He pulled up and parked a bit back, the area illuminated by lanterns. She gasped, sitting up slightly as she looked out.

“Wow... You... You did this for me...?” She turned to face him with a slightly open mouth, and he nodded, smiling at her.

“I did. I wanted to give you another special date.” He activated the emergency brake as a precaution, getting out of the car. He carefully made his way over to her side, and she was accommodating enough to feign fixing her hair so he could make it to open the door. He pulled it open, shifting his cane so he could offer her his hand. He helped her up, leading her over to the table. He lifted the covers off the meals, and beneath them was two portions of country fried chicken. She moaned in hunger and he carefully helped her into her seat, taking his across from her. The table was small enough that their knees were touching, and once they scooted in completely, she moved her legs so they were between his.

The dinner portion of their evening went surprisingly well. She loved the food and told him it was one of her favorite dishes. Conversation flowed easily and naturally, and he was happy they didn't have any awkwardness between them anymore. She was bright and intelligent, and he loved talking to her. The fact that it was so easy made it even more enjoyable. She was stimulating in many ways. As the air chilled, she grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him toward the back seat of his car. He eagerly joined her. 

He shut the door and turned to face her, groaning in surprise and contentment as she launched herself into him, kissing him. One hand was in his hair and the other on his shoulder, and she kissed him deeply. She straddled his leg with both of her's, pulling back to smile at him. He smiled back, all tongue and teeth when she kissed him again, and he hoped he didn't seem like a bad kisser in her eyes. He was simply dazed by her.

Her hands were touching him in the most wonderful way, no real direction or intent behind it. At the moment. She was touching him simply to touch him, and his life had been devoid of such pleasant and simplistic details for far too long. This girl gave him everything he needed and more. And all she asked for in return was respect, love, and a bit of effort. There was nothing difficult about it, it was all natural

He groaned in half surprise half pleasure as she shifted so she was straddling him completely. Her short dress rode up, and he wished he had been wearing dress pants. The jeans were far too restricting as he began to grow more and more aroused. He was a large man and had put on weight since the pants were last touched. It wasn't a comfortable combination, but he wasn't about to complain about a lapful of Belle French. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, and the vehicle was suddenly far too hot. He couldn't help himself, his hands sliding to her dress, bunching it up. She didn't push him away, instead running her tongue along his slowly before giggling.

“What's so funny?” He breathed it out softly, his eyes running along her face, taking in the flushed cheeks. She was so beautiful, he was stunned that he was on a date with her, and even felt disbelief over the fact that he was making out in his backseat with her.

“You're just such a good kisser. I feel like you've taught me how to kiss better in a few weeks than the other three guys I've kissed in the span of six years.” It was true to an extent, though he wouldn't take all the credit. She was noticeably better than their first kiss. Of course, even when she had been clumsy and inexperienced, he wouldn't have wanted to kiss anyone but her.

“Perhaps because you weren't meant to be kissing them, and have really been meant to be kissing me.” She smiled, leaning in and kissing him deeply, her nails pressing into his cheeks gently.

“I think that's exactly it.” Soft hands ran along his cheeks gently, and he closed his eyes to enjoy her touch. When he opened them to question her sudden silence, he noticed she looked sad. “I wish we'd started seeing each other sooner. Or at least met years ago.”

“I'm sorry it took me so long to ask... It wasn't lack of want.”

“I just can't help but think how much better my life would have been had I not been alone, had I spent the last three or four years with you.”

“Mine too. Though I must say... This town would think I was an absolute creep had I been with you then. I think they already thought I was stalking you for awhile.”

“I wouldn't have cared. I know you're not like that.” She nuzzled into his neck, leaning into him completely. His arms tightened around her, and he leaned back. 

“It would have been frowned upon. A thirty-five year old seeing a girl who had just turned eighteen...”

“I would have been safer and more respected with a thirty-five year old than I would have with the eighteen year old I ended up with. Age doesn't determine if you're right for someone or if you'll treat them well, as long as you're both legal to be together. Though I do understand you probably wouldn't have been interested...”

“I don't know for certain. I won't deny the fact that I've seen you around town for years and always thought you very beautiful. And you and I have been.... Friends for over a year. I would have been there for that, at least. It's just... Our age difference already concerns me, it seems even worse when one can literally say I was twice your age.” She paled slightly and pulled away, fixing her skirt.

“W-what do you mean concerns you? Why are you here if that's the case in your mind.” He swallowed hard and shook his head, his chest beginning to pump faster nervously. Why on earth had he said such an easy to misinterpret thing as the girl was telling him she wished they'd been together for years now? That was an honor.

“I don't mean it that way... I just... I'm not saying I think you're too young for me. Not at all, you've always struck me as very mature. More than most of the people my age in this town... I just worry about how long I'll be viable. How long I can make you happy for. I worry I won't be somewhat young long enough for you to get whatever you may want from a partner.” Her expression softened, and as climbed back close to him, holding his face gently.

“You can give me what I want from a partner as long as you're Michael Gold.” His mouth hung open, and his heart swelled. He had never been enough for someone before. He leaned in and kissed her, trying to push all the feelings he had for her into a physical expression. She moaned slightly and wrapped her arms around him, so clearly he had done an alright job of it. He watched her sit forward, pulling her heels off, and she glanced out the window into the darkness, biting her lip and reaching forward to lock it again. “I've never heard of this spot. So that means we're likely good to be alone, right?”

“Ah... I imagine so. I usually come here by myself when I need to think. I've never once encountered anyone else here.”

“I like it... Being alone this way, I mean. I trust you.” She leaned up to kiss him again, pulling him so he was slightly on top of her. He ignored the stabbing ache in his bad leg from the position it was twisted in. Kisses like this were well worth a little pain. He was far too old to be making out in the back of a car, but any moment with this girl was something he'd cherish forever. She encouraged more of his weight down, so he laid his body along her own, trying to keep his legs as straight as he could. It was very uncomfortable, and his pants were making it worse.

“I'm never letting you convince me to wear jeans again.” He murmured it against her lips, and she giggled, reaching between them.

“Then you need to take them off.” She slowly slid the zipper down, pulling them down a bit, and he sighed in slight relief as his constrained erection was able to breathe. “Does that hurt?”

“Does what hurt, sweetheart?”

“You know... Being hard in tight pants.” She blushed slightly, biting her lip as she finished her sentence. “Or in general.”

“Oh... No, it doesn't really hurt, per say. It's simply uncomfortable in the jeans as there's no space and they're confining as is. And in general it doesn't hurt. It's just a tension, more of a distraction than anything.” It was an awkward time for an anatomy lesson, but he wasn't going to deny her. Her hand wrapped around him and he moaned out.

“My ex... He... He always said it was really painful. He said it was the worst type of pain.”

“He's full of shit.” He rolled his eyes, shifting slightly, his hands on either side of her. “That's quite the common lie. Men often tell women that in hopes it'll encourage them to do something they aren't comfortable or ready for.”

“Thank you for being so honest with me about everything. I feel so naive, it's just, everything I know about guys is a lie because of him. And it sucks, because I don't want you to think I'm an idiot or little girl. It's just... Being told these things every day messed with me. I knew it was all lies but... I...”

“It gets to you. It breaks down your self-esteem and confidence, even in things you're an expert on. It makes you feel smaller than you are. It's not something that's your fault or that I would think you stupid over. I never told you, and I really didn't want to when you had your hands around my penis, but I've been there. Not to the extent you have, of course, but just verbally. My first wife was very vocal in her hatred and disgust with me at a point.” He sighed softly, and she let go of his penis to hug him tightly. He leaned his face into her neck, sighing softly.

“Thank you for telling me. I know this was probably hard.” She had no idea. He ran a hand through her hair, breathing in her scent a moment. Roses and honey. It was heavenly. 

“Yeah... A lot of things regarding my past have been hard.” She pulled back slightly, cupping his cheeks in her hands and looking at him in concern.

“Tell me everything.”

“Everything?” He let out a soft chuckle, and she narrowed her eyes, pressing her hands in more firmly. “Belle, I'm forty, if I even attempt to tell you everything that's been awful in life, we'll be here for a week.” She groaned in disappointment when she tucked his member back into his pants, but it faded as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

“Let's do it this way. Every time we spend time together, we'll each make sure to share one special thing. Something very happy, or very sad.”

“Alright... You first then.” He brushed hair behind her ear, and she swallowed hard, nodding.

“My mother... I lost her a few years ago. When I was about fifteen. That's when my father and I moved to America. He wanted to get away from all the memories Australia held.” She sniffles slightly, leaning against him more closely, and his heart ached for her. He pulled her in tight, his arms coming around her securely.

“I'm so sorry Belle...”

“She's the reason I love books so much... We read together almost everyday. And my father always said I looked a lot like her. That always made me feel... special. Because I thought she was so beautiful.” He listened to her closely, his arousal steadily fading away. It wasn't the time. It was the time to get to know her better, which was something he wanted more. She took her phone out from the small purse resting on the front seat, ignoring a few text messages to go right to her photos section. She scooted up more, and she began to show him dozens of photos of her and her mother together. She smiled at some and teared up at others.

“You were adorable. And I do love the puppy shirt.” She giggled, blushing brightly, quickly swiping aside to hide the photo of her with a French bulldog sweater and a face still chubby with youthful baby fat. 

“You better show me pictures from when you were younger for these.”

“I don't really have many. I have a few from school, though not on my phone. I think I have one from my wedding somewhere in here.” It was a struggle to remove his phone from the pocket of his tight pants, but he eventually succeeded. Sure enough, he did, though it wasn't of his wife, it was of him and his best man. Jefferson still looked like a boy in the photograph, but it was far less embarrassing than how he looked. She gasped and covered her mouth, turning and running her entire hand through his hair.

“Michael! Your hair! That's almost a buzz cut!” She looked horrified, and he was too old to blush but that didn't stop his traitorous body from reacting. “Oh my god.”

“I know, I know, I hadn't yet figured out my face really needs long hair to frame it right, I was young and naive.”

“I can't even believe this. Fetus Michael was so cute! But you got so... so sexy.” She bit her lip as she looked him over, running her hand along his jaw, the other running through his hair. “You've aged like wine. I'm lucky.”

“Oh dear, I think I'm the lucky one.”

“You didn't tell me something about your past. Or was the haircut the awful thing?” He laughed softly, leaning back and thinking. He didn't want to start with perhaps the most tragic and heartbreaking. He wasn't ready to share that with her. He wasn't sure he could tell the story without sobbing, and there had to have been a rule about when it was acceptable to cry in front of your love interest.

“Well, it seemed awful at the time, and I guess it shaped who I was as a person from then on. I was born in Glasgow, Scotland, and my mother died giving birth to me. I never knew her. But I barely knew my father. He was distant, irresponsible, and I could always tell he didn't want me. We came to America when I was around seven. We lived in Brooklyn, New York. I couldn't read nor could I write. By the time I was eight, he was gone. Two women took me in, and they raised me. They taught me those things, as well as things I suppose most would define as traditionally feminine. I learned how to sew, cook, clean, knit. They also taught me that I was at a disadvantage already. So I worked my ass off in school. I studied five times harder than anyone else, and I even played... Soccer. It's big back in Scotland, so I felt so lucky to be able to play. I managed to have the best grades in my class, while also excelling at it. And the two combined is the only reason I'm able to be where I am.” She was listening intently, watching him curiously. No one had ever truly devoted so much attention to him, and she made him feel special.

“Why is that?”

“Without the two I don't think I would have been able to go to college. I had gotten a full scholarship to NYU. I was dirt poor, I wouldn't have been able to afford any higher education without the scholarships. And without that, I wouldn't have gone to law school.”

“You sound like you've worked so hard your entire life. Did you ever take some time to just relax? When's the last time you had a vacation?” 

“A vacation? The last time I went more than a long weekend without working was when I was in the hospital for my leg.” He wished he hadn't mentioned it, because he already knew her next question.

“How did y-”

“I injured it playing soccer. I was twenty-three and still in law school, but I still played. It never really healed correctly because I was stubborn... I was so young, I was embarrassed to use a cane or crutches. So I walked on it even after I was told I needed an aid, and that made it worse. That was when my wife, we'd been married three months, really began to resent me. She had married me because of the promise I showed as a lawyer, not to be... as she put it... Tied to a cripple forever.” He swallowed hard, and she gasped, glaring slightly.

“Sounds like you're better off. She sounds like a monster. Anyone who would think any less of you for it doesn't deserve to be around you.”

“To be fair, I can't blame her not being content about it. It restricts what I can do by a lot. You'll see....”

“Michael, you're amazing. Whether or not you can run or rock climb isn't important at all. Anyone who deserves you wouldn't care. I'm sorry if you feel like it takes away your quality of life, but honestly, I forget about it. Just because it doesn't change my opinion of you. I've never once thought of you as a cripple. You're Michael, and you have a cane. That doesn't change who you are or how happy you make me.”

“You know... My life would have been a lot better had you been my college girlfriend all those years ago...”

“I was thinking the same thing. I spent my college years afraid of Gary, to the point I eventually said yes to going out. If I had been with someone as sweet and loving as you, I would have actually been happy. College could have been at least a little fun.”

“What did you go for?”

“Don't laugh... It's not anything fancy or as financially impressive as a lawyer..."

“Belle. I would never laugh at anything you do.”

“I have a degree in library science...”

“And you're ashamed about that? You love reading, being around books is what brings you happiness. I think that's wonderful. You chose something you were passionate about. That's what's most important, not how much money you make.”

“That's easy for the richest man I've ever met to say...”

“Belle...”

“I'm sorry, I don't mean that in a mean way. I know you worked your ass off to get where you are and that you actually deserve it. And for the record I don't care about money at all. It's just... Everyone always says it was a bad choice. That I should have picked something higher paying or more in demand.”

“You're only twenty-two. I didn't have it together then. I still don't, honestly. I'm not sure anyone ever has their life totally together. I learned long ago you can't plan for everything. Besides, you picked something you love and enjoy. That's what's important. I know it's meaningless for the rich guy to say, but money isn't everything. It can't make someone love you, and while it can buy things, you can't buy what you really want. Not if you want it the right way.”

“How haven't you remarried...? I don't get it... You're perfect. You're sweet, caring, funny, handsome... I can't believe some lucky girl hasn't beaten me to you.” He couldn't help but laugh, and she looked at him in confusion, tilting her head. 

“I'm not exactly a catch, Belle. I have a lot of baggage.”

“And I don't?”

“None of that is your fault, sweetheart. None of it.”

“Sometimes, we meet people who are good for us. And we meet some who are bad for us. You just happened to be unlucky in that. And I was too.” How they had gone from half a handjob to heartfelt conversation was beyond his understanding. He realized then that perhaps he had, in the past, been too bland sexually. It had been a routine activity during most of his marriage, and never taken with such a fun and passion says approach. He supposed he was just more comfortable with Belle than he had been with his wife. It didn't have to be something planned and thought out. Belle was someone he could share everything with.

“But that's in the past now. Now I consider myself very lucky.”

“I do too.” She leaned into his neck, and his arms tightened. Her body was small and warm, a compact ball of heat he could wrap his arms around, and she fit into him perfectly. She laid her hand over his stomach, and while he was self-conscious about the roundness quitting smoking had given it, she didn't seem bothered by anything. He wondered if the day would ever come where she would be. Where she'd be disgusted by his leg or body, or regret ever giving him so many of her firsts in so short a time. As he lay on the backseat of the car, his legs bend and back aching, he knew he wouldn't mind if someday she left him. He was Michael Gold, and it was just how his life worked. She was teaching him happiness, which was enough and he'd greedily drink in all of it, and he'd devote himself to making her feel it too. And hopefully when she inevitably left she was gentle with him, gentler than his first wife and the lover after that. 

But maybe, just maybe, his luck would extend, and this one would be forever. He could and did dream, even on the way home after dropping her off at at quarter to 1:00 in the morning. He hadn't stayed out so late even in college, and judging by the way she had taken her heels off and sank into the front seat, she hadn't either. He'd been a gentleman and walked her up to her apartment despite the still broken elevator and his throbbing leg. It was late, and he hadn't wanted to risk anyone waiting for her in the hall, or just her tripping and hurting herself. She kissed him sleepily but sweetly against her front door, and he was certain his lips were swollen from all the heavenly kisses she bestowed upon him. The night had been wonderful, and just as he whispered goodbye, she had asked him for another date. He could have wept as he said yes, and she decided she would choose their venue, which was a weight off his shoulders. Even without her in his arms, he fell asleep easily with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta gamezees.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at thedarkonesdearie. I post lots of Rumbelle and stuff that makes me laugh. I will also take prompts for this fic if anyone has them, send them to me there!


End file.
